


Down Amongst The Wreckage

by squeezenz



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Road Trip, intimate relations between consenting adults, non-episodic-canon, post Animal Revolt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 130,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezenz/pseuds/squeezenz
Summary: In a world gone to hell, a group of people is forced to work together to survive.A love story borne after the world is recovering from the war of animals and insects against mankind.  The characters you know and love never took part in the remedy, only managed to survive the results.  Now they are joined together by a quirk of circumstances and must somehow survive the invasion of the hybrids with their sole purpose, to wipe out what remains of the human presence on the American continent. Can a group of disparate people with limited resources make a difference in a world determined to wipe them out?(Archive Rating was changed for a shortish scene towards the end of Chapter 4 and the aftermath in Chapter 5 in the retelling)





	1. Prologue - In the Beginning

Prologue - Summer, 2015

Mankind was gradually losing the battle to survive. For so long humanity had held sway over the animal kingdom, only a few isolated pockets of untouched, indigenous populations of rare creatures remained in such remote places in far-off lands. The planet was being polluted at a rate unequaled in history, the ocean strangled in a tsunami of plastic. Political unrest was rife and protest marches occurred every day in support of one cause after another. Climate change and global warming was still not a priority for most prominent politicians and greed continued to stifle initiatives and inventions designed to solve so many of the crisis, from starvation to solar power. Wealth was held in the hands of the few, while the many tried to escape the unending wars and skirmishes destroying their homes and livelihoods. Borders were becoming blurred, while others were building walls.

Into this chaotic, heaving mass of conflict arrived a new player. In Africa, it was reported that male lions were banding together and attacking tourists on safari. In other parts of the continent, leopards were doing the same, behavior unheard of, slaughtering whole villages with few survivors to tell the tale. From Africa the animal anomalies spread through Europe, Bears invading suburbs and ransacking homes, dogs roaming in packs and luring people to their deaths in isolated, abandoned buildings. The stories grew and got wilder as time passed. Whatever it was, it jumped to the America's, bats swarming and disrupting power in Rio, birds bringing down planes in Panama, then the first report from the United States, Lions escaping the LA zoo after killing their keeper and roaming the local back alleys, killing two men before being shot and killed by police. More stories started to trickle in about animal attacks, far above the yearly average. Pets turning on owners, birds attacking playgrounds, herds of cows trampling not only their owners but whole towns. News channels started making a separate report each day exclusively to do with what was happening in the animal kingdom. Cameramen were being killed by the animals they were filming, conservationists were being swarmed by the very animals they were trying to help, farmers lost control of their domestic herds of sheep and horses. Snakes invaded in such numbers there was no one left alive in numerous isolated Australian towns, panic causing almost as many deaths as people tried to get away, traffic and gun fatalities at an all-time high around the world.  
War had been declared on the human race and nobody was remotely prepared for the battle.  
Scientist in every country tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for the phenomenon, and when that failed, they tried to come up with a solution or cure. That failed too. People tried to barricade themselves in their homes but were driven out when the insects started their campaign. Ants clumped together and produced a static charge that not only knocked out equipment and gadgets but could kill if a person was swarmed by them. Wasps terrorized wide areas of some cities, causing misery and death, stinging anyone unprotected. The halls of Congress were invaded by an invasion force of cockroaches in such numbers they fouled the entire building, making it uninhabitable for weeks. Every emergency service in every city and town was under siege. Hospitals were overrun, battling the results of the attacks and fending off their own animal invasions. Rats developed the ability to breed in such numbers they cleared out entire apartment blocks, the people overcome by sheer weight of numbers, the rats, like the roaches, fouling every surface and driving the people to shelters. Rioting started among the displaced millions as resources started to dwindle, crops destroyed or trampled, workers abandoning chicken and egg production plants, the birds dying in their cages, eggs left to rot. The business of running the world started to grind to a halt as workers couldn't leave their homes or travel the roads to work, not wanting to leave their families. Children no longer went to school, afraid of being attacked by birds or insects. Even benign creatures could make a school unusable, toads, turtles, and alligators taking over several schools in the deep South, sending pupils and teachers running to avoid being smothered under the sheer weight of the amphibians, or eaten by the reptiles.  
Zoo's and animals parks had to shut their doors, some shooting their charges to prevent human deaths or because they could no longer feed or care for them.  
Every night, for those that could still receive a signal, or had access to a television or radio, the news relayed statistics from around the country, what animal had been seen where, places to avoid, places that were becoming a sanctuary, places that no longer held people.  
As the death toll mounted and public transportation was no longer an option, communities started to rely on themselves, rather than expect help from the police or armed forces. They built enclaves, walled hamlets, started to grow their own food, beating back the animals, large and small that tried to tear them down, stamped out the insects that enveigled their way inside. The pattern was repeated from east to west, small groups of neighbors or families banding together to create an oasis safe from animal predation and insect invasion. The roads became empty of traffic, no delivery trucks or tankers, no petrol, no cars. The air above saw a plane only rarely, grounded by insect activity, bird strike or lack of mechanics to provide the essential servicing required for the thousands of planes to keep them airborne. Ships were the only mass transport available to take people away, but to where became the question as every day more countrys and previously safe ports became overrun and unusable. Banking and commerce disintergrated, government fragmented and both the military and police were decimated. Barter of goods and services became currency, looting a way to survive.

When roughly a year had passed from the day the Lion's in Africa turned on the tourists, the reports of attacks started to lessen. There was no obvious reason why, maybe because the number of people across the planet had been drastically reduced, or were no longer such easy pickings in their fortified homes, maybe the animals and insects felt a stronger biological imperative to resume their interrupted life cycles. Either way, they started to slowly return to normal. Horses could be ridden again, cows could be herded once more, birds were busy building nests rather than raining down death from the skies.  
When a few weeks passed and there were no significant reports of weird animal behavior or attacks against people or communities, the remnants of humanity drew in a collective gasp of relief. The big clean up then began, what remained of local authorities taking a census of who was left, who had survived, what resources were still available or working. For six months people felt that there was hope things would return to something resembling normal, that the power would stay on instead of being unreliable, people started to work again, rebuilding what had been abandoned, restoring services in some areas of cities to encourage people back.  
A year further on from that point some junior schools had started to reopen, food shops were being restocked and resupplied. Gas stations reopened and people started to travel again between towns and cities by car and bus. Commercial planes would take longer to get organized, but small planes acted like intercity taxis instead. Horse-drawn vehicles were not an uncommon sight in the smaller towns and cities, the production of gasoline like everything else, taking its place in the queue of goods and services to get out to the people in more distant locations.  
Roughly two and a half years on from the start of what media were calling the Animal Revolution the first rumors started to surface of fantastical creatures like nothing seen before, spotted roaming in National park areas by hunters and fishermen returning to take up their sport and put food on the table. Some of the reports were dismissed as a hoax, the descriptions being too outlandish to be real animals. Then months after the first whisper, a hunter carried a carcass out of the forest and took it to the local patrol station. It was the first recorded sighting of a Razorback, as they came to be known. It was not the last. 

 

Autumn, 2018, Yellowstone National Park. 

Chapter One - The Morgans.

The RV park a mile outside Yellowstone, near the town of Gardiner, had a great position beside the Yellowstone River. The silver Airstream took advantage of this fact and was perched right on the bank, overlooking the fast flowing river, the side awning up, shading the picnic table that was part of the site. The RV park was full, with every campervan space occupied and several tents set up on the greenspace reserved just for them. That said, this wasn't a huge campground, but it was obviously popular. Tourism, like everything else, had suffered through the years of the animal revolt but with things slowly getting back to normal, people were traveling again, some purely on their way from one place to another, others deliberately there on holiday, others there for reasons not stated. Vehicles, large and small, came and went all day, usually back by late afternoon to spend the night, people milling, meeting, talking, eating, barbequing, all the usual behaviors associated with kicking back and taking time out from the worries and woes that had affected everyone.  
Mitch Morgan and his daughter Clementine were there for two reasons, firstly a brief stopover before moving on with their trip around the states, the Airstream their only asset. Secondly, they were there to take in the National Park and its myriad wonders, neither of them having been there before. They hoped by the time winter set in they would be long gone and basking in the sun on the Californian coast, as far from snow and ice as possible. Mitch was Clem's biological father but hadn't been around for many years, her mother remarrying while he pursued his career ambitions, first as a junior doctor then jumping tracks to pursue becoming a veterinary pathologist, studying at several universities on both coasts. When the animal uprising threw everyone's plans for the future up into the air, he was working as a lecturer in Los Angeles but when news reached him that Clem had lost her mother and stepfather during the first months of the revolt, Mitch promptly cashed up his assets, purchased the Airstream and drove to Boston to collect his daughter. Together, they had survived what came after by keeping on the move, avoiding several encounters with various animals groups by the skin of their teeth. Mitch bartered his medical skill around isolated communities as things worsened, his skills providing them with an income of sorts. Often they were paid in goods or fuel, or simply a safe place to park in the more hard-hit areas. Mitch helped where he could, the RV sometimes resembling a medical clinic and pharmacy from the stuff he looted from deserted malls and shopping centers. Clem, at eleven, was able to offer herself to help out with babysitting, chores, sewing or just acting as nurse for her father, learning even at her early age how to dress a wound, plaster a broken arm or inject antibiotics. Their home on wheels had been modified extensively before Mitch purchased it, the downturn in the market meaning he got it at a good price, along with some extra's he wasn't expecting to use but soon came in very handy. He had also added several more modifications while a guest at various holdings, beefing up the ability of the vehicle to withstand attacks from man or beast, insect or bird. It had saved their lives during the worst times more than once. Clem had christened the mongrel vehicle the Audra two after her mother because it protected them, just as her mother had protected her all those months ago, giving her life to save her daughter.  
They'd been at the campground two days, taken the tour bus that made regular daily trips from the campground office, too and from the National Park, allowing them to leave their Airstream set up, instead of having to move it every time to drive out and see stuff. Now it was the end of the second day, Clem had taken herself off to roam the camp, see who had left, who had newly arrived. Despite her tender age and deceptively vulnerable appearance with her fair complexion and long blonde hair, Clem was proficient with a knife and a bow and been taught the rudiments of hand to hand combat, just in case. Traveling as they did, they picked up new skills wherever they stopped, and just because life was starting to come back to normal with fewer animal incidents, it hadn't stopped the worst of humanity from existing. It was useful information to find out who was where, if any of them looked dodgy, or in need of help. Her father was very protective of her but didn't try to wrap her in cotton wool. He had been a pacifist, animal lover, tree hugger before all hell broke loose, then he had to adapt, become a protector and provider for his daughter, learning how to handle guns, pistol, and rifle, as well as developing a healthy cynicism when it came to people. Some had taken him for a nerdy professor with his glasses and scholarly air, but they soon learned otherwise. Not only was he a decent doctor, respectable scientist and a fan of crosswords, he was a crack shot and a creditable cook. He's also taught Clem to drive, despite her illegal age, just in case.  
While his daughter tramped around the RV park, he sat at the picnic table, making the most of the last of the afternoon sun to read an out of date medical journal, one of the last to be produced, that focused its issue on what was happening to the animals, with speculation, interviews with the scientists working on a solution, and an overall perspective on the problem. Before he'd left LA to head for Boston, he'd been involved in doing necropsy's on the animals that had gone rogue at the LA Zoo, his results added to the growing pile of evidence before it all became moot with everything going tits up and breaking down. By then he was in Boston, reuniting with his grieving, ten-year-old daughter and doing his best to keep them both alive while the world around them descended into chaos.  
“Dad!” Clem's clear voice cut across his concentration and he looked up. His now twelve-year-old-nearly-thirteen, daughter was approaching their camp with a stranger in tow. That in itself wasn't unusual, Clem was a collector of waifs and strays.  
“Hey,” he called back, shutting his journal and turning sideways to view the newcomer. She was average height, slender to the point of thin, hair scraped back into a tight bun atop a pale face with wary eyes. Clem ushered the girl forward.  
“Dad, this is Jamie, she needs your help,” Clem stated, turning to the girl to carry on the narrative.  
She stared back at Clem, then swiveled her eyes to stare worriedly at Mitch.  
“I'm...er...not sure this is a good idea...really...” she stuttered her words and looked ready to flee.  
Mitch frowned. “When you make your mind up, let me know.” He turned away and reopened his journal. Clem glared at him.  
“Dad!”  
Mitch looked up at her. “What? You brought her here, she doesn't want to be here, what's the problem?”  
Clem kept her grip on the girl's jacket and sat herself down opposite her father, dragging the girl down with her. “The problem is you're being rude. Jamie's boyfriend is sick. She says he was bitten by something when they went hiking, and now he's hallucinating and shit.”  
Mitch closed his journal again and sighed. “What was he bitten by?” He looked at the girl and raised an eyebrow. Up close it was obvious she wasn't a girl but a woman, her grey-green eyes wide and scared, regarding him as one would a venomous snake – something to be avoided.  
“I – I don't know. We only came up here because he...” she abruptly stopped, swallowing hard and looking down at her hands in her lap. “Look, I'm sorry. Clem said you were a doctor and could take a look at him. We had a fight and he wandered off the trail and left me there. When I went to look for him he'd been bitten. I stopped the bleeding and we got back here last night. He has a temperature and the bite is swollen and red.” She looked up from the close study of her hands in her lap to turn the full force of those wide, vulnerable eyes on him, pleading for his help without saying a word. Mitch shut his journal and grimaced.  
“I'll get my bag and come look at him.” He got up and went into the RV, hearing Clem excitedly tell her new friend her dad was okay. The young woman simply stared after him, her expression haunted. 

Jamie led the father and daughter pair to her campsite, the grey dome of the pop-up tent surrounded by their belongings, a battered grey Lexus parked beside it. Jamie approached the zipped entrance and knelt down.  
“Ethan, it's Jamie, I bought a doctor to look at that bite.” She ducked inside, Mitch crouching down to do the same. Inside the tent a man lay on a sleeping bag, his body contorted at a strange angle. Mitch put on some latex gloves and reached for his wrist to feel for a pulse. Finding nothing, he shuffled forward to put his head on the man's chest. Again there was no heartbeat, a quick check of the neck showing no pulse either. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a small, square mirror and held it to the man's mouth, but nothing fogged the glass. The man's face was relaxed in death, his eyes closed as if he was only sleeping, but his limbs told a different story, of convulsions and spasms, possibly a seizure. Jamie was sitting on her heels opposite him and he looked over at her.  
“I'm sorry, but your friend is dead.” Mitch looked down the body and saw the bandage on the man's leg. He carefully removed the dressing to look at the wound. As she had described it looked swollen and angry, but as bites went it didn't look particularly fatal, only very painful. Taking out a syringe he drew a sample of blood from near the bite. Then he took a sample of tissue from the wound itself and bagged that.  
“Look, I'm sorry for your loss. We need to get him into his sleeping back before rigor sets in.”  
Between them, they manhandled the corpse into the sleeping bag and zipped it up. Jamie did it all dry-eyed, in a state of disbelief and shock at the sudden turn of events. Mitch ducked his head out of the tent. “Clem, take my bag back to the RV, I'll be along in a moment.” His daughter did as asked, leaving him to deal with the grieving girlfriend.  
“We'll have to notify the local authorities, and they'll probably be an inquest. Do you know his next of kin?”  
“Um...no. I can call his former employer and see if they know.” She stared back at him, still not showing any hint of grief at the loss of her boyfriend, just an overall air of sadness.  
“Okay, well, when you've done that, gather what you need and come over to the RV. You can bunk with us after they come and collect...er...”  
“Ethan, his name was Ethan.”  
“Right. Anyway, I'll call the local PD, you call his workplace. I'll see you back at our camp. Okay?” He waited for her to nod that she had heard him, then he crawled out of the tent and got to his feet. Drawing in a lung full of fresh air, he tramped back to the RV and climbed the steps to get inside. Clem was sitting on the two-seater, her eyes wide. “What happened?”  
Mitch gave her a grim smile. “He was dead already. Possibly from a seizure or something. I'll know better when I analyze the samples.” He reached for his medical bag. “Oh, and she'll be staying with us until the body is collected.”  
Clem perked up when she heard this. “Cool. She's nice but sad.”  
Mitch was sitting at his bench, switching on his bits of equipment. “Yeah, she is...sad, that is.”  
Clem rolled her eyes and got up, going outside to wait for Jamie to get there. 

Mitch stared through the microscope, his glasses perched on his head. He'd called the local police and explained about the body, they would arrange a van to collect the deceased. They would get their own coroner to do the death certificate and take it from there. With his official duties discharged, he turned to the science, preparing a slide of the blood and tissue to examine. He was peering through the scope and writing down a few notes when a voice spoke to him.  
“Doctor Morgan?”  
He twisted in his seat, repositioning his glasses to look at the young woman standing behind him.  
“Yeah, how ya' doin'?”  
She spread her hands in an unconsciously helpless gesture. “I called Ethan's former work using the phone at the camp office. I told them what had happened, that you would get in touch with the local PD and they said they will contact his next of kin. I'm not sure what else I can do?”  
He gave her a small, compassionate smile. “It's all in the hands of the authorities now. The police are sending a wagon to...er..collect the body. They'll probably want to take any of his personal belonging to pass on to the next of kin when they come to collect him. An officer will need to take your statement of what happened, as well as your details and all that.”  
“Okay.”  
“...then probably a statement from me.” He sat with his arms folded, waiting for her response. She managed a small twitch of her lips, then nodded.  
“Okay.”  
Mitch wondered if that was the entire sum of her vocabulary, but then mentally slapped himself for being so insensitive. The poor girl had just suffered the loss of her boyfriend and was in a state of shock. As if reading his mind, she looked up, pinning him in place with those soulful, sad eyes.  
“I imagine you're wondering why I'm not more upset....”  
Mitch waved her off. “Not at all...”  
“Yes you are, I can see it in your face. I promise not to start crying or anything.” She gave a short laugh. “Nothing worse than a hysterical stranger weeping all over you.”  
“Look...” Mitch started to say, but she suddenly stood up.  
“I can hear the sirens. I'd better go and be there...” She trailed off then turned and rushed out of the RV. Mitch frowned and turned back to his workbench. Securing the samples and slides, he soon followed her out of the Airstream and walked over to the campsite just as the police van and a patrol car arrived. Clem was standing beside Jamie, lending her moral support. Mitch stepped forward to meet the police officer, introducing himself and explaining his part in connection with the body. The coroner's attendants went into the tent with a gurney and came out with the body secured, still inside the sleeping bag in lieu of a body bag. A crowd of residents from other tents and RV were starting to gather around while the police officer took an initial report from Jamie as to what had happened and the sequence of events leading up to the death. He then did the same with Mitch, the body loaded into the van with a backpack of Ethan's belonging with him. Then the van was on its way, leaving behind the police officer. He did a quick scene examination, took a couple of photos, asked some last minute questions and then he was gone too.  
The crowd started to disperse, leaving Jamie standing beside her tent with her arms wrapped around her middle, Clem beside her. Mitch suddenly noticed how dark it had become, the afternoon sliding into evening without him realizing.  
“Clem? Stay and help Jamie pack up her stuff. I'll get a meal underway.”  
“Sure.” His daughter acknowledged, turning to her new friend. “See? Told you he was nice.”  
Mitch didn't wait around to hear the answer to that endorsement and quickly walked back to the RV. A young man, tall and athletic, accompanied by an even taller black man approached Mitch as he reached the picnic table.  
“Is there anything we should be aware of?” the young man asked. Mitch turned to face him, an eyebrow raised at being questioned.  
“And it's your business how?” he asked. The young man looked taken aback at being rebuffed.  
“It's my business because I'm parked near to that tent site and if what the occupant died of is contagious I want to know!”  
“Then you can rest assured that the young man didn't die of anything contagious, infectious or transmittable. He suffered a seizure or heart attack after being bitten by a large Canis familiaris or Canis Lupus.”  
“You're a doctor?” the black man asked.  
“Veterinary pathologist, medical doctor on the side,” Mitch informed him, turning away, his part in the conversation done.  
“Look. I'm sorry if I came on a little strong. I'm Jackson Oz, and this is Abraham Kenyatta, Abe for short.”  
Mitch turned back and smiled thinly. “Mitch Morgan. Here on holiday?” He decided to play nice.  
“Nope, just passing through and thought we'd take a break and see the sights. First time in America for both of us.” Jackson held out his hand. Mitch took it and they shook hands for a moment, then he did the same with Abe.  
“Where are you from originally?” Mitch asked, intrigued. Jackson looked like the classic quarterback, all teeth, green eyes and wavy brown hair with a physique to match. Abe looked like a fearsome linebacker, his jovial expression belying his intimidating height and bulk.  
“Botswana. Abraham and I run safari tours, or I should say we ran safari tours.” Jackson explained. Mitch felt his jaw drop.  
“You were right in the thick of it then, when it all started!”  
Jackson and Abe exchanged a glance. “We try not to advertise that. We were evacuated out of the area, then out of the country later on, as both my parents are American. Lucky for me.”  
“Lucky for us,” Abe added. At that moment Clem and Jamie were approaching, Jamie carrying a small backpack over her shoulder. Clem went to stand by her father, eyeing the newcomers with interest. Mitch took up the introductions.  
“This is my daughter, Clementine.” He could feel Clem roll her eyes. She hated it when he used her full name. “And this is Jamie, it was her boyfriend they took away.” The two men looked at her with sympathetic expressions.  
“We're sorry for your loss,” Abe intoned in his deep voice. Jamie gave them a nervous smile.  
“Thank you.”  
The five of them stood for a moment in awkward silence, then Jackson made a move.  
“Well, we're better be getting back. Nice to have met you all. Goodnight.” He walked off with Abe at his side. Mitch stared after them for a moment, caught up in his thoughts. Clem nudged him.  
“Dad?”  
“What? Oh, right. I got sidetracked. Let's go inside before the bugs start to bite.” He waved the girls forward, letting them enter the RV in front of him before he climbed aboard himself, shutting the door behind him. 

Mitch was sleeping soundly, the sound of the river loud outside the RV. It was sometime in the early hours that he was shaken awake, a slender hand on his arm cool against his skin,  
“Doctor Morgan, please, wake up!” the whispered plea had him jerking up in bed to rest on his elbows. In the moonlight coming through the slats over his windows, he saw a figment of his infrequent lustful dreams. A slender, nicely curved feminine figure was leaning over his bed, a cloud of wavy hair framing a heart-shaped face with luminous eyes and kissable lips. He reached for his glasses and the figure resolved into their latest waif and stray, Jamie Campbell.  
“Doctor Morgan, please, there's something outside,” she whispered, her hand held out to him. “It's prowling around and growling. I think there may be more than one.”  
Jamie stood back as Mitch rolled out of bed, instantly reaching for the door of a narrow cupboard, revealing itself to be a gun locker. Lightly armed with a pistol, Mitch made his way to the middle of the RV. His bed was at one end, the girls sleeping in bunks at the other, away from the river.  
Clem was kneeling on the top bunk and held a finger up to her lips, pointing to indicate where the whatever-it-was, was. Mitch was very aware of the scantily clad female standing behind him, the faint scent of something floral dragging his attention away for a moment. Then he heard the low growling outside and his senses were on the alert again. The RV suddenly rocked, a hand landing on his back briefly as Jamie steadied herself against him. He could feel the heat even through his t-shirt and he felt himself blush, glad of the darkness hiding his reaction. A grating sound of something brushing claws or spines against the outer metal skin made him grit his teeth at the screech it made, the vehicle once more rocking as bodies pressed up against it, Mitch reckoning they had to be big to jostle the three and a half tons of campervan. He leaned over the kitchen bench to see out of the window, the decorative lamp placed at the front of their site shedding a faint light over the ground, but there was little to see. Lights were coming on in other campervans, further illuminating the night, but also creating more shadows to confuse his ability to spot what was lurking outside.  
He leaned closer to the window to see better and got the shock of his life when something jumped up at the window, a good four plus feet off the ground. It was black and fogged the glass with its breath, making him rear back, knocking into Jamie as he did so making her cry out. Instinctively he turned and put his hand over her mouth from behind to prevent any more sound escaping, her fingers coming up to scrabble against his hold on her, her body pressed back against his chest. They stood there for a long moment, the creatures outside milling around, scenting their prey inside. Then the night air was rent by a scream and shouting, the noise and light distracting the animals outside, guns brought in to play with shots fired, one pinging off the outside of the airstream. Clem instantly scrambled off her bed and lay on the floor. Mitch lowered his hand from Jamie's mouth and clamped it around her middle, dropping them both to the carpeted floor to avoid being shot by friendly fire.  
Mayhem erupted outside their RV, the screaming abruptly cut off while the shouting continued, gunfire increasing as several residents took potshots at whatever moved in the darkness. Something animalistic let out a bellow close by, the vehicle rocked violently when something impacted the front heavily, actually pushing the RV towards the river several feet until it hit the solid wooden post and rail fence bordering the campgrounds. Jamie hadn't moved from where he'd shoved her onto the floor, her slight figure now shivering, her hands held over her ears as the roaring and shooting continued outside. Mitch looked over Jamie's head and met Clementine's wide eyes staring back at him, his lips curving up into a reassuring grimace, wordlessly telling her to trust in their protective shell to keep them safe from what was outside.  
The noise outside started to die down, the guns going silent leaving behind the ever-present rush of the river and the sounds of human distress. A sudden bang on the RV door made everyone jump.  
“Doctor Morgan, is everyone alright in there?” It was Jackson's friend Abe. Mitch got up and went to the door, cautiously opening it a crack, his gun held out of sight. Abe stood at the bottom of the steps, his face reflecting his worry.  
“We're all fine in here, Abe.”  
“That's good, but there are several people out here that need your help. Please?”  
“Hang on, I'll get dressed and get my bag.” Mitch shut the door and turned to go back to his end of the trailer and get into some clothes. Jamie was sitting on the bottom bunk beside Clem.  
“Get dressed as well. Clem, you know what I'll need, so bring extra. Jamie, if you can stay here and hold the fort? Get some water on to boil, I'll send Clem back for it when I know what I need.”  
A few minutes later and he was following Abe to reach the first casualty. In all seven people had been injured either by being trampled or being shot, none of them fatally, thank goodness. Mitch worked through what remained of the night, Clem keeping him supplied with coffee to keep him awake, the hours sliding by until dawn finally broke over the campsite and the extent of the damage could be seen by everyone. With all the cuts, scrapes, bruises and bullet holes taken care of, Mitch returned to the RV and slumped down over the picnic table, his head on his arms. Only one injury had been serious enough to warrant calling an ambulance and that had just come and gone. Now people were out inspecting the damage to their motorhomes and trucks. In the chill of the morning, he felt someone spread a blanket over his back and shoulders, slender fingers tucking it around him.  
He lifted and turned his head, noting it was Jamie standing beside him, her hair still loose, her figure wrapped up in a bulky coat he recognized as his own. She noted him looking at her.  
“Clem has gone back to bed. I have fresh coffee if you're interested?”  
“You're an angel. Thank you.” He graced her with a crooked grin, and she blushed, before turning her back and going up the steps to fetch it for him. He must have dozed because he woke to a gentle shaking and the smell of strong coffee laced with something alcoholic being pressed into his hand. He took a sipped and rolled the flavor over his tongue.  
“Perfect.” He sat up further, keeping the blanket around his shoulders and sipped gratefully. The light was getting stronger as the sun rose over the surrounding hills, gilding the dew covered ground and reflecting off the metal skin of the RV behind them. Jamie sat on the opposite side of the table, her knees drawn up to her chest, a mug of something clasped between her hands. Her hair was a wonderful corona of reddish-gold streaks highlighted by the sunlight about her head, gentle waves falling over her shoulders in silky abandon. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers through it, something of his intent apparent in his expression because Jamie looked back at him in surprise, and maybe a little bit of alarm. It had been a long time since he'd felt the stir of attraction, that glorious hair calling to him like a siren. Given it was attached to an equally appealing face and form, one he'd held close against himself not that long ago, it was small wonder his sex-deprived libido sprang to attention smartly, if rather inconveniently. He was so absorbed in the novelty of being painfully aroused so early in the morning, he didn't hear her when she spoke to him and she had to repeat herself.  
“Doctor Morgan?”  
“Mitch, call me Mitch, please.”  
“Um...okay. I just asked if you had any idea of what those creatures were.”  
“Not a clue. The tour guide said there was plenty of wildlife in the area – bears and deer, wolves and wildcats, but I can't equate what I saw with any of them.”  
“You'd think with all the shooting, that someone would have hit something,” she mused, staring out at the land around them. Apart from the trees dotted around the campgrounds, the hills immediately bordering the river were covered in low growth, only the river bank sporting greenery of any size.  
“Guns and nighttime are never a good combination unless you hunt with spotlights and use infrared sights to find your target,” Mitch commented.  
“Did they damage the RV at all?” she asked, putting down her empty coffee mug.  
“I don't know, I haven't checked.” His body had subsided enough for him to stand up without embarrassing himself, so he did so, Jamie following him as he walked around the vehicle, checking for evidence of any damage. He noted that the prints in the dirt seemed to indicate that several large wolves had pressed close to the vehicle, the metal work scratched in places from claws or something else. Around the other side was evidence of large hoof prints, Mitch crouching down to inspect them, his brow furrowed as he tried to place their pattern. Jamie stood beside him, careful not to step on the prints or get in his way. He looked up at her.  
“This is going to sound crazy, but these prints here are like a form of hippo or rhino tracks.”  
“You're not alone, thinking that,” Jackson's voice came from behind him and Mitch stood up.  
“You'd know better than me, are these what I think they are?” He pointed to the anomalous prints.  
“Very close, but not exactly, it's almost like it's a mashup of the two animals. Part hippo, part rhino. It's a puzzle. There are other strange tracks mixed in as well,” Jackson told him.  
“What would either creature be doing out here?” Jamie asked, hugging the overlarge coat around her. Jackson shook his head.  
“No idea. Got me stumped.”  
Mitch tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn. Jamie looked over at him.  
“You should go to bed, you're exhausted.” As if suddenly realizing how presumptuous that sounded, she blushed and stared at the ground. Mitch exchanged a glance with Jackson who grinned widely.  
“You're not wrong. I am exhausted. I think I'll get some shuteye before I do the rounds and check on my patients later on.” He walked passed Jackson and around the front of the RV to reach the side door, leaving Jamie behind. Once inside, he headed for his bed, keeping the blanket around him as he shucked his outer clothes and fell into bed. He could hear Jackson talking to Jamie, a small twinge of something twisting in his chest before sleep pulled him under and he knew no more.  
Jamie stayed and chatted with Jackson, the handsome young man flirting with her a bit, but his boyish good looks had little impact on her and she soon ended their conversation on the pretext of getting some sleep herself. Back inside the RV she washed up the coffee mugs, checked on Mitch, to find him sound asleep, locked the outside door and finally climbed back into her bunk, Clem buried under her own covers on the top bunk fast asleep.  
Jamie lay for a little while in the bed, having shed the bulky jacket and hung it back in the wardrobe where she found it, thinking over the night's events and the people she was starting to get to know.  
Clem was a sweety, gregarious and social but sometimes displaying views and behavior far older than her years, a product probably of living through the last few years like a gypsy with her father, following the loss of her mother. Learning to defend yourself and becoming proficient with a bow and knife were not normal occupations for gently bred Boston teens. Jamie admired her though, admired her confidence and total trust in her Dad to put anything right that was wrong. Her thoughts about Mitch Morgan were not so clearly defined. Clem had said he'd help and he had, but he'd also been acerbic and abrupt with her, making her nervous. His handling of Ethan's death had been competent but unemotional, hinting possibly at the sort of life he and his daughter had been forced to lead during the animal uprising. But he had also been kind, offering her somewhere to stay other than alone in a tent, taking the lead when the authorities arrived, protecting her when the shooting started. She had also noted the spark of interest in his eyes when they'd been sitting out at the picnic table. Jamie was well aware of her wildly differing effect on men. Some dismissed her as a lightweight, a child to be ignored or walked over. Other's saw her as a toy, packaged for their pleasure, not having a brain to impede their lusts. How Mitch saw her, she didn't yet have a handle on, only that he was not entirely unaffected by her. As for the effect he had on her, Jamie refused to look at that too closely. Ethan was barely cold in his, well, sleeping bag. It was hardly right or proper to be looking for his replacement so soon. That said, her current position was not exactly enviable. Her entire life was packed up in one shonky car and its contents. Ethan had been a former boyfriend from before, Jamie running across him only recently in entirely different circumstances than the last time she'd seen him. He'd largely been instrumental in her losing her last job, but given what had happened shortly after, losing a job was the least of her problems. When they'd literally bumped into each other at a refugee center, Ethan had latched on to her as if she was a lifeline, so when she mentioned she was moving on, he'd pretty much invited himself to go with her. Their stop at Yellowstone was purely coincidental, Jamie never having been there but the promise of a couple of days tramping some of the easy trails proved irresistible, and Ethan seemed keen as well. The campgrounds had been full, and she felt safer having so many other people around. Ethan was changing from being grateful to being demanding, the argument she'd told Mitch about resulting from him trying to grab her, throwing her to the ground before falling on her. Only a knee to the groin stopped that ambition, Jamie getting to her feet and forwarned, prepared to defend herself if he tried it again. Ethan had then sworn at her while clutching his bruised balls and hobbled off the track into the trees. As he'd gone without even the small pack he'd brought with him, she waited for him to appear and collect it. An hour later she had followed his tracks into the wood, finding him not very far in, his hands gripping the bite on his leg and calling to her for help. As they hadn't been very far along the trail in the first place, getting back to the campgrounds hadn't taken long, but he'd developed a fever in the following evening, starting to rant and rave at her, swearing he was going to kill her, raving it was all her fault and so on. By the morning he was not looking good, but she left him anyway to sit outside on the ever-present picnic table, chewing over what she was going to do when Clem sidled up and introduced herself. Now, Ethan was dead, her tent packed up and she was sleeping in a comfortable bed having survived the night. If she'd still been in the tent, she might well be dead herself by now. Wrapping the blankets firmly about her shoulders, she rolled over and determinedly closed her eyes. The soothing rush of water ever present around them, lulled her smoothly to sleep, dreams of large slavering dogs morphed into a hard body holding her gently while she trembled in fear. 

After a few hours of catch up, everyone was up and doing just after midday. Mitch went off to check on his patients of the night before, Clem and Jamie checking out the food reserves before making lunch for when he returned. Jamie was amazed at the quantity of supplies packed into the campervan, nearly every surface or piece of furniture hiding more storage space, even more available within disguised hatches along the outside of the vehicle. She was told there was a large water tank, hidden gas bottles used for cooking, plus spares, a fridge and freezer, the expected shower/toilet combination, extra transportation in the form of bicycles and an inflatable boat on the roof along with more storage plus a powerful engine and batteries to power the vehicle and lights. Clem also said they had solar panels and a small wind generator that could be deployed if they had no access to electricity. She also explained that her father had a small library in his room, more storage under the bed and a gun locker, which Jamie had already seen. The chassis had been raised and strengthened, the six wheels protected behind covers and a full maintenance kit secured in the engine bay. Jamie had also been impressed by the compact medical bench and its small but impressive collection of equipment.  
“Is there anything this thing doesn't have?” Jamie joked, laughing.  
“No pets,” Clem shot back, shrugging her shoulders and giving a rueful smile that was probably learned from her father. They both laughed at that, still smiling when they carried the fixings for lunch out to the picnic table, surprised to find Mitch already sitting there in anticipation.  
Mitch had heard the laughter and some of Clem's guided tour, happy to hear his daughter enjoying the company of another female, even one not related to her. Always living with half an eye on the next danger, the next pitfall, wasn't the best environment to raise a young girl, Clem keeping her feelings about the matter to herself, but sometimes still giving in to bouts of grief and clinging to her father for comfort. Having a third person around meant Clem had someone else to ask questions of, particularly those questions girls always asked their mothers at this age. Not that he wasn't fully prepared to give the lecture on birds and bees, menstruating and pregnancy, he just would rather it was handled in the usual manner, by another female. Hopefully, by the time they had to face that hurdle, life would be back on an even keel and feminine hygiene products would be back on the shelves. Speaking of which, he wondered idly how Jamie faired with the shortages still plaguing the shop shelves. He hadn't realized he was staring at said female until he got a sharp kick under the bench from his daughter who glared at him in exasperation.  
“Dad!”  
“What?”  
“You were staring.”  
“What's wrong with that? Can't a man stare at something, sometimes?”  
Clem frowned at him. “You were staring at Jamie?”  
Mitch glanced over at the woman concerned, noticing her preoccupation with her flatbread salad wrap, her cheeks quite pink.  
“Sorry, I was miles away,” Mitch explained.  
“Well, duh!” Clem muttered, turning her attention back to her own lunch.  
Jamie looked up after finishing her mouthful. “That's okay, you must have a lot on your mind.”  
“I was actually thinking about supplies, and how you were coping,” Mitch retorted. Jamie stared at him, quite rightly, as if he was a little touched by the sun.  
“I've been coping fine. Was there something you were particularly interested in?” she asked.  
Mitch realized belatedly that talking about feminine hygiene products over lunch was probably not the best topic of conversation. Clem was now looking at him, her head canted on the side as if he had suddenly sprouted something peculiar on his face.  
“What?”  
“You're being weird, Dad.”  
“Makes a change, you're usually the weird one,” he teased, grinning at her.  
Jamie listened to their playful banter with a wistful expression on her face. It had been so long since she'd been a part of anything remotely related to a family. Her mother had died when she was younger than Clementine, her father taking off soon after. Her Uncle and Aunt had taken her in and raised her, but the last she'd heard the couple had fallen victim to a swarm of wasps, dying in the home they built and always swore they'd never leave unless in a pine box. Her cousins were still alive, as far as she knew, but she had no idea where they were. Now her last link to the past, Ethan, was gone as well. Feeling maudlin, she got up from the picnic table and mumbled her apologies before walking away at a brisk pace.  
“Was it something I said?” Mitch asked, staring after her. Clem shrugged, licking her fingers free of sticky homemade chutney sauce.  
“I don't know, why don't you ask her?” Clem's falsely innocent tone made her father give her a hard look.  
“What are you cooking up in that ditsy head of yours?” he asked.  
“Nuthin',” Clem answered.  
“Liar. You want me to ask her to come with us when we leave.” He frowned at his daughter, Clem meeting his glare with a wide-eyed butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth look.  
“I'm not saying a word, this is all your own idea.” She rested her arms on the tabletop. “You like her, don'tcha?”  
Mitch stared off to the side, scrunching his face up. Clem grinned at him.  
“You do! Can she come with us, please?” She leaned forward to press home her point.  
Mitch folded his arms on the tabletop and glared back at his weedling daughter. “She'll eat too much.”  
Clem snorted. “Hardly. A strong wind would blow her away.”  
Mitch tried again. “There's no room in the RV.”  
“There's plenty of room, and anyway, she'll be driving her car, won't she?”  
Mitch had forgotten about the battered car. “I'll get a trailer hitch and tow it.”  
“I bet there's something she's really good at, but we don't know about it yet,” Clem suggested.  
“Good at getting herself into a fix,” Mitch grumbled, knowing he was giving in.  
Clem leaned over the table until she could reach to kiss him on the forehead, above his glasses.  
“Thank's, Dad.” She pulled back and scrambled to get off the bench, taking off at a run to find Jamie.  
“Boy, she has you roped and saddled!” Mitch turned his head to regard Jackson standing beside him.  
“I'm open to suggestions for ways to stand up to a twelve-year-old girl determinedly wheedling anything she wants from her father.” Mitch sat back and waved for Jackson to take a seat.  
“Don't look at me, I don't have any kids. Nephew and nieces, sure.” Jackson explained, sitting down. He held a number of ziplock bags in his hand, containing a variety of disgusting substances.  
Mitch indicated the bags. “Spore?”  
Jackson nodded. “Thought you might be interested, you know. Do some tests or something.”  
“I could do that.” He turned his head as another vehicle rumbled past, Jackson doing the same.  
“Lot of people are leaving after last night. Don't blame them, but I'm not sure that running away is the answer,” Jackson observed.  
“It's worked for me a number of times,” Mitch shot back. “Survival at any cost, and all that.”  
Jackson sent him a wry smile. “Works well in most situations with wild animals, snakes, hippo's, you name it.”  
“I understood that hippos are pretty fast runners?” Mitch argued. Jackson laughed.  
“They are, but I only have to run faster than the guy in front!!”  
Mitch groaned and grimaced. “That is so old. Tell me you don't woo the tourists with that one?”  
Jackson shrugged. “Always gets a laugh.”  
Mitch gathered up the bags of scat and stood up. “I'll get on to this right away. It'll take a couple of hours, so why don't you and Abe come over tonight for supper and for the results.”  
“We'll do that, and bring dessert.” Jackson stayed at the table even after Mitch had disappeared into the RV, his long fingers drumming on the planking as he contemplated his next move. Another truck towing a trailer trundled past, leaving the campground half empty. The space next to the Morgan's Airstream was vacant and Jackson made a decision, getting to his feet and walking off in the direction of the campground administration office at the main gate. 

Jamie hadn't gone far, sitting in her car with her feet up on the dashboard. The passenger side opened and Clem slid into the seat, pushing it back the same way as her's.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey, Clem. Sorry for taking off, I just...well, I was thinking about my mom, and didn't want to spoil the fun you were having with your dad.”  
“That's okay, I miss my mom too. What happened to yours?” Clem turned sideways to better see Jamie's face.  
“She got really ill and died.”  
“Mine was killed protecting me from a stampede,” Clem explained matter of factly. “We were caught out in the open, and my mom pushed me up into a tree, but the branches broke when she tried to climb after me. My stepdad tried to head the animals off, but he was trampled as well.”  
“Oh, my God, Clem!”  
The girl shrugged, her lips pulled into a grim smile. “I didn't recognize them when it was all over, they were completely smooshed into the dirt. Some people saw what happened and got me down. They had to break off the branch I was holding on to because I wouldn't let it go.” She heaved a sigh. “I had it carved into the shape of a dog.”  
“Why a dog?” Jamie asked.  
“We used to have one, Henry. He was a golden retriever and he was mine, but when the animals all went crazy, he did too. My stepdad had to have him put down.”  
“I'm so sorry, Clem.” She reached out a hand in mutual sympathy and the young girl took it, holding on for a moment or two before releasing it. They sat there, looking out of the dusty windscreen, watching the parade of RV's leaving the campground.  
“My dad likes you,” Clem suddenly dropped into the silence. Jamie turned her head, tilting her head to the side.  
“You can't know that. He was probably just being nice like you said he was.”  
“No. Dad and I have been together nearly three years now, and I know him. I've seen him with heaps of women, and I know he likes you.” Clem's raw honesty couldn't be ignored and Jamie felt a tide of heat bloom on her cheeks and neck.  
“That's nice to know. Not sure it makes much of a difference. I have to decide where I'm going to go now I'm on my own again.”  
“But that's just it, you don't have to. You can come with us, Dad agreed,” Clem told her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.  
“Clem, honestly? Or did you just nag him until he agreed?”  
“Oh, he grumbled about you taking up too much room, and eating too much, but he agreed in the end. He even said he'd organize a somethingorother so you can hitch your car to the back of the RV.”  
Jamie felt both amused and annoyed to hear that Mitch had tried to make excuses for her not to join them, but also warmed to think that she wasn't going to be alone, at least for a little while. “That's very generous of him. Did he really mean it?”  
Clem stretched her arms above her head. “He never says what he doesn't mean, so...yes.”  
Jamie turned back to stare out of the windshield, her assessment of Mitch Morgan going up several notches. Not only was he kind and caring, he was generous too.

Mitch was working at his 'science corner', as Clem described it. He was so immersed in what he was doing he didn't notice when the two girls returned to the RV, Jamie bringing the rest of her gear, Clem giving her a deep storage drawer under the bottom bunk to hold it all. Clem ignored her non-responsive father and pottered about the kitchen, pulling stuff out of the freezer and starting to put together the evening meal. Jamie offered to help, but Clem rebuffed all offers and told her to sit down and keep out of the way. Amused by the child's highhanded management, she did just that and watched Mitch instead, noting the sure and confident way he prepared slides, examined them and then wrote copious notes about his findings before moving on to the next specimen. Sometimes he mixed whatever he was testing with some chemical or other, producing some rather unusual smells, but Clem simply activated an extractor fan above his workbench which took care of them in short order. It was dark and the lights all switched on before he pushed back on the stool and shut his notebook. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes for a long moment, before replacing his eyewear and picking up the glass Jamie had placed at his elbow, downing the content in one go.  
“Thanks, Clem I needed that.”  
“You're welcome,” Jamie replied from the couch, her feet tucked up under her, a medical journal open on her lap. Mitch swiveled around in surprise, blinking at her before frowning.  
“How long have you been there?” he asked, looking up and only now noting the lights inside were on and it was dark outside.  
“Awhile. Clem has dinner waiting for you. Jackson and Abe are outside with her. They're telling her about their adventures on safari.”  
Mitch folded his arms over his chest. “I hope they bear in mind she's only twelve.”  
“I think they are well aware of that.” She lay the journal to one side and stood up, her fingers linked in front of her the only sign of her nervousness. “I wanted to speak to you, thank you for the offer to go with you when you leave.” She separated her fingers and spread her arms out to either side a little way. “I was trying to figure out what I was going to do...now that I'm back to being on my own again, and Clem insisted that you were okay with me coming aboard...you are okay with this?”  
Mitch smiled at her. “I'm fine with it. Clem will benefit from having a woman around. Did she tell you about the tow bar?”  
Jamie nodded. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, really.” She was back to twisting her hands together again. “I also wanted to thank you for taking me in, last night. If I'd been in the tent...well, I don't think tent nylon is much of a barrier to wolves, if that was what they were.”  
An image flashed through Mitch's imagination of the likely outcome if the creatures had attacked her, her body probably ripped apart, her ethereal beauty destroyed in seconds. He blanched and jumped to his feet.  
“Let's not think about that.” He went to reach out to give her a reassuring hug, as he would if it was Clem, but instead jammed his hands into his jean pockets. Jamie saw the aborted movement and gazed at him wide-eyed. They stayed that way for a heartbeat then Clem let out a loud laugh outside, breaking the silence. Mitch cleared his throat.  
“We should go out there and...er see what Clem has on the menu for us.” He gathered up his notes and indicated for Jamie to go first. His expression, once she was turned away from him, fell into lines of relief that he hadn't made a complete and utter fool of himself.


	2. Follow the Science

It was fully dark when Mitch sat down at the picnic table, his daughter, Jackson Oz and Abraham Kenyatta already there and waiting to hear his findings. Several lanterns on the table, plus an overhead light on the awning meant they were well illuminated as Mitch flipped open his notebook and started to read out the results of his tests. He was very conscious of Jamie sitting to his right, but he tried to blot out her presence by concentrating on his notes.   
“Um...well, I tested all the samples you gave me, Jackson. They revealed some interesting results, and some pretty gross ones as well. It was an even split between carnivore and herbivore scat, both showing high levels of parasites, tapeworm, fluke worm and other disgusting parasitic species, plus a couple I couldn't identify right away. They also revealed what their recent meals had been made up of. Not a pretty picture. The carnivore scat was a mixture of various meats including fish, deer, bear, and human.” A collective audible expression of horror from his audience was to be expected and he lifted a hand to quiet them before speaking again. “The herbivore scat had a predictable level of grass seeds, differing vegetation, and human remains.”  
“Holy shit. No wonder they were drawn to the campsite,” said Jackson, a look of disgust on his face. His friend Abraham looks equally appalled.   
“It is like a lion that has tasted human flesh. They become man-killers. Tigers and leopards as well. You don't have to chase a human to catch and eat it, they are easy prey.”  
Mitch glanced over at his daughter, meeting her grim expression with a half smile. “Sorry, kid.”  
“Not news to us, eh Dad?” Clem retorted, drawing the gaze of three shocked faces around the table.   
“Do I even want to know what that means?” Jamie asked, horrified.  
“We saw some pretty terrible stuff, as everybody has these past few years, but you have to remember, humans are just part of the food chain to most predators, and when they couldn't eat their allies they ate their enemies...us!” Mitch explained.

It was all too true. Mitch had done everything in his power to protect his daughter from being killed, but he couldn't prevent her seeing what the consequences were of animals turning on their former masters. Human beings became like road kill, their remains picked apart by buzzard and coyotes, and any other creatures or insect that usually fed on dead animals. At the height of the revolt, there was no time to bury everyone, there was nobody to do it, none of the usual businesses that took care of that side of community living, so bodies were left to decompose where they fell, or in the house they died in. Gruesome and heartrending, it became a common sight in the first year when all human life was under threat. When the number of casualties fell due to evacuations or people protecting themselves behind barriers, there were less actual bodies and more skeletal remains, still an awful sight, but no longer the absolute horror of the recently deceased. Already, with the threat of animal attacks greatly reduced, there were teams of specialists roaming all over the country, cataloging and burying human remains in communal burial plots, the niceties of identification and determining the cause of death put to one side because of the lack of resources to carry out such a mammoth task. Bodies were buried and the country cleaned up. It was a start, but it left sometimes entire towns and communities empty of its residents and no clear record of what happened to them other than a mass grave with an impersonal marker giving the number buried there. 

“So, apart from what they ate, was there anything to identify the eater?” Abe asked. It was a logical question, but coming after Mitch's revelations it seemed kind of funny and Jackson couldn't help letting out a bark of laughter before trying to disguise it by coughing. Clem just grinned, while Jaimie hid her smile behind her hand. Mitch sent the big man a crooked smile.  
“Good question. Again, I'd have to go back to my original identification. The herbivore appears to be a mash-up or hybrid of the two animals we thought the hoof prints could belong to...”  
“The Hippopotamus and Rhinoceros?” Abe asked. Mitch nodded. Jackson was struggling to keep the smile off his face, then gave in.  
“Or maybe a Hippocerous or a Rhinotamus?” he delivered the line with a straight face, but that didn't last long, Clem giving in to a fit of giggles and even Abe chuckling, while Jackson's shoulders shook. Mitch glanced at Jamie who was struggling not to laugh, her eyes brimming as she shook her head.   
“Okay, okay very funny. Anyone want to hear about the rest of the findings?” Mitch asked, fighting to keep his lips from quirking into a smile. Everyone around the table nodded, so he carried on.  
“The carnivore results were interesting. It seems to have a varied diet of prey, some of them not normal prey animals like the bear, but given how big these animals appear to be, and how heavy from the depth of the prints, they make for a formidable apex predator in an environment not equipped to deal with them.”  
Jamie had been chewing her thumbnail and suddenly spoke up.  
“Could they be the same animals there's been talk about?” Everyone looked at her to elaborate. “I mean, there were those hunters who shot and killed that creature no one could identify. They called it a Razorback because it had all these quills, or spines over its body, a bit like a porcupine. They also said it was bigger than a Timber Wolf, with long legs and a wicked set of teeth.”  
“How do you know all this?” Mitch asked.  
“Um...well, I was in the town they brought it to. I didn't get to see it, but everyone was talking about it at the refugee center. They got a local vet to cut it open and discovered...bits of people inside.”  
Once again the people around the table gave varying reactions to the information. Mitch let out a sigh.   
“So we're not out of the woods yet. The ordinary animals are mostly back to normal, but these new ones, these hybrids are picking up where the others left off. What I want to know is where they come from?”  
“Would they be a natural mutation?” Jackson asked, once more serious.  
“Only in a science fiction story. And the herbivore is made of creatures that aren't even native to this continent!” Mitch rubbed at his forehead and looked down at his notes. “To achieve this level of hybridization naturally would take thousands of years, and even then, to cross a porcupine with a wolf is just nuts. Mutations usually only occur within a single species interbreeding, like a mule from a female horse and a male donkey, or a zedonk from a zebra and donkey mix, bearing in mind that both types of offspring are sterile, but they are all basically hoofed and equine. Same with the variations in dog breeds and so on. But to breed a porcupine with a wolf is just genetically impossible, they are predator and prey, not remotely sexually compatible as well as being natural enemies.”  
“What about outside of nature, say in a laboratory?” Abe queried. Mitch nodded.  
“A test tube offspring? I suppose it's theoretically possible, but still beyond the bounds of conventional science and unethical research. Interspecies, like producing a new breed of sheep using sheep – yes, cross-species with mixing up the DNA of unrelated mammals? Big no, no. It would equate with mixing chimpanzee and human DNA to produce God-knows-what?”  
Again the people around the table responded with varying degrees of horror and disgust at the notion.   
“And yet, someone has done it,” Jamie's quiet voice dropped into the silence that followed. Mitch turned to face her and she shrugged. “It's the only explanation for these Razorbacks.”  
“Jamie is right, barring the possibility that the sudden appearance of these anomalous creatures is from some futuristic hole that they just happened to drop through, these have got to be manmade,” Mitch concluded.   
Another silence ensued, broken only when Clem let go a wide yawn. Mitch shut his notebook and got up from the picnic table. “There's nothing more we can do tonight, so let's leave it at that. Clem, you need to get to bed.”   
His daughter grumbled but didn't argue, getting up and heading into the RV to prepare for the night. Jackson stood up, as did Abe. “I was wondering if we should suggest that everyone bring their campervans closer together like we did moving in next to you guys,” Jackson mentioned.   
Mitch nodded. “Sort of 'get the wagons in a circle' kind of thing?” he added. Jackson grinned.  
“Exactly. Me and Abe will go to the office and see what the owner thinks about the idea.” The two men quickly left, heading on foot to the camp office, leaving Mitch and Jamie alone.  
“Did you want to post a watch tonight?” Jamie asked, making Mitch look at her in surprise.  
“You volunteering?” He snapped back, frowning. Then he relented and sent her a smile. “No, I'm only joking. I've chocked the wheels so the RV can't be moved and I trust in the strength of the skin to keep us safe from anything breaking in. There's not enough of us to mount a night long watch, so thanks for the offer, but it won't be necessary.”  
Jamie gave him a measured look then nodded. “Okay.” She gathered up the lanterns and switched them off, to conserve the rechargeable batteries, leaving only the awning light. “I'll say goodnight then.”  
“Good night, Jamie.” He said it softly, like an endearment, causing her to pause, as she climbed the steps, and look back at him.  
“Good night....Mitch.”

He stayed outside to give her and his daughter time to get changed and do whatever they did to get ready for bed. The night was cool, the rushing river loud in the sudden quiet. He saw the distant figures of Abe, Jackson and the camp owner doing the rounds of those staying on, obviously the idea of drawing closer as a group appealing to most as motors fired up and vehicles started to move from their present positions around the grounds to a new slot either next to or across from where he sat. An hour later and everyone had finished repositioning their RV's, quiet once more settling over the grounds while clouds overhead started to obscure the stars with a weather front pushing over. Mitch got up and checked that nothing had been left behind, or was unsecured before entering the Airstream and heading for his bedroom at the rear. Clem, or more likely Jamie had rigged up a makeshift curtain to section off their bunk beds from the main cabin, allowing Mitch to brush his teeth at the sink with a light on without disturbing those behind the sheet. To add to their privacy he pulled the sliding door across to shut off his room, leaving the rest of the RV in darkness. In his small bedroom, he pulled out more of the medical journals and perused their content pages to see if anything was mentioned in previous editions about anyone experimenting with cross-species hybridization. At some point he dozed off, the open journal draped over his chest, his glasses askew.

The night passed without incident, the morning wet and overcast. Mitch stood under the awning and watched the water drip in a steady curtain onto the dry earth. He didn't notice any new tracks and assumed that the pack, or herd or whatever it was, had passed by and gone to find greener pastures, so to speak. Or easier prey, he added on a grimmer note. The authorities already knew about the attack so he hoped they had alerted all the other camps in and around the area. Anyone under canvas was particularly at risk, a shudder down his spine recalling his mental image of Jamie if she'd been sleeping in the tent when they'd attacked. As if summoned by his thoughts, she came out of the RV and stood beside him, a large beach bag slung over one shoulder.   
“Where are you off to?” he asked, downing the last of his lukewarm coffee.  
“To the shower block. No offense, but I don't know you well enough to use the one in the camper.” Was her cheeky reply. Mitch laughed out loud, Jamie grinning back at him, noting how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was amused.   
“Hope you don't mind spiders, and check for garter snakes, they like a nice warm, moist shower block!” he teased. Jamie mock-glared at him and took off, holding her light jacket over her head to ward off the persistent rain. He watched her run, jumping any puddles that were in the way, her path a bit haphazard because of trying to avoid the worst of the wet. Still smiling, he went back into the RV to wash up his cup and then take a look at the samples he'd taken of the boyfriend's bite. 

Jamie didn't take very long in the shower, grateful for the hot water and the loan of shampoo from Clem. It was a brand she used to use herself but hadn't been able to find in some time. Apparently, Mitch wasn't above taking advantage of abandoned pharmacies and shopping malls to replenish their supplies when available. Mind you, with the depleted police force and the shortage of army personnel to prevent looting, it wasn't a surprise that those trying to survive used whatever they could lay their hands on when it became available. Some rules of law went by-the-by when you're trying to not be killed by rampaging animals, plus survive when you had no money. Looting was how many got by, and she wasn't about to point fingers at anyone for breaking the law. She'd broken a few herself.  
The few women that had been in the showers before her had come and gone, leaving her alone in the block. Lacing up her boots, she froze when she heard an unfamiliar sound. She waited to see if it was repeated, but when it didn't she carried on with the laces, then rolled up her towel and stuffed it in her bag, before reaching to unlock the door to the cubicle. She was about to turn the lock when the sound came again, this time from right outside her cubicle. She looked down at the slight gap at the bottom of the door and saw a dark shadow blocking the light.   
“Is someone out there?” she called, a rattling sound coming from whatever was standing on the other side, the sound matching the movement of the shadow at her feet. Suddenly the shadow moved and something hit the door itself, Jamie jumping back as the sound and blow to the door were repeated. She looked around the cubicle but there was nothing but a shower curtain to use as a weapon or defense, the sides reaching up to the ceiling so no escape there. The door rattled again and something tried to scrabble at the bottom, a frightening view of long, black furred paws with curved black claws visible as they swiped under the door, hoping to catch something.   
Jamie screamed.

“Dad? What was that?” Clem drew his attention from where she sat on the doorstep of the camper.   
“What was what, honey?” Mitch lifted his head from the microscope. The sound came again and he jumped up, grabbing the pistol from the edge of the bench where he'd left it, just in case.   
“Dad? Where's Jamie?” Clem was on her feet, staring out into the rain, the screams clearly audible over the rain and the river. Mitch pulled her out of the way and jumped down the steps.   
“Shut and lock the door and don't come out!” he shouted at her as he started to run towards the communal shower block, others appearing and standing near their RV's staring towards the block but not moving. Abe and Jackson appeared bearing weapons and took off after Mitch, the three of them, Mitch in the lead, pounding through the rain and mud, skidding to a stop outside the block, the screams of before now suddenly ceased.   
Mitch could feel his heart racing in his chest, his hands coming up to hold the gun steady in front of him before he started to make his way into the women's shower block. Jackson and Abe arrived a few seconds behind him and took up positions either side of the door, Abe keeping a watch on their rear as well.   
“Jamie?” Mitch called out, hearing only the sound of dripping coming from a leak in the guttering, his heart still pounding in his ears. He heard a low growl from somewhere beyond the shallow entranceway, it echoed in the empty space making it hard to pinpoint where it was or how far in. He inched forward, Jackson mirroring him against the other wall, a rifle held at shoulder height, Abe bringing up the rear with another rifle. Mitch sidled around the doorway leading to the right seeing a bank of toilet doors, access to the showers beyond that. The room looked clear, but he clearly heard the scrape of claws on concrete followed up with a disconcerting rattle like hollow bamboo sticks shaken in a bundle. He crept forward.  
“Jamie? You in here?” he called softly, checking each of the toilet stalls, Jackson side walking over to the sinks to get a better look through the doorway leading to the showers.   
“Mitch? It's in here. It's one of the Razorbacks, seems to be on its own,” Jackson informed him, keeping his voice low, while Mitch approached the other side of the doorway, pistol held one-handed. Mitch held up his free hand with three fingers raised, ignoring the almost continuous growling coming from the shower block, augmented by the rattling noise. He counted the fingers down then he, Jackson and Abe moved forward and entered the room. All the shower cubicles were intact except for the last one, the door laying on the ground within the cubicle at an angle, propped up by something while the thing that had destroyed the door stood with its rump pressed into the wall, braced to face whatever was coming at it from the outside. The three men stared at the beast, all struck dumb to be facing what they had previously only imagined. Its size was less than Mitch had expected, the rattling sound coming from a ridge of porcupine-like spines currently forming a crest along the arch of the spine, vibrating like a rattlesnake's tail. Its fur was long and mottled black and grey, the head sporting big ears and a long muzzle, a mouthful of teeth on display, eyes as black as its fur.   
Spittle dripped from its mouth, but there was no sign of blood around its jaw or teeth, suggesting it hadn't got around to eating its prey.  
“What now, professor?” Jackson asked, not taking his eyes off the beast. Mitch opened his mouth to reply, but the Razorback pre-empted him and sprang forward. All three guns fired at once, all aiming for the head and all finding their target. It slid to a stop just in front of them, blood pouring from its destroyed skull, a death rattle issuing from its throat.  
Mitch holstered his gun and hurried to the damaged stall, Abe helping him lift up the door that had been torn off its hinges. Underneath was Jamie, blood pooling under her head. Mitch knelt down and carefully felt for a pulse, his heart starting up again when he found it, steady and strong. He leaned forward and carefully felt around her head and neck, feeling the hard edge of the shower stall which she had hit, raising a sizable lump at the back of her head, but no evidence of a skull fracture under the blood matted hair.   
“She's alive, but I need to inspect her head, can you carry her?” he asked Abe. The large man nodded.  
“I don't expect she weighs more than a thistle. Help me lift her.” Abe bent down to gather the unconscious woman in his beefy arms while Mitch cradled her head and neck until Abe had her settled, her head resting against his broad shoulder. Jackson had stayed well clear, leaving them to work, his gun still pointed at the dead hybrid at his feet, despite the evidence that it was stone cold and not about to move anytime soon. He stood back to let Abe, closely followed by Mitch, walk out of the shower room.  
“What do you want me to do with this?” he asked Mitch.  
“Bring it to my RV. I'll want to take samples later.” Mitch fired off over his shoulder, then he was out the door and Jackson was left to figure out how to move the dead body. In the end, he opted for using one of the shower curtains, experienced enough with animals to know that it was possible the spines were tipped with something unlikely to be healthy for humans and to avoid contact with them.

The rain had reduced to a light drizzle as Abe walked stolidly across the waterlogged grass and mud, Mitch jogging on ahead to make preparations to receive his latest patient. Clem had been watching from one of the windows and had the door open for him.  
“Is she dead?” She asked, a tremulous waver in her voice.   
“No. She's just knocked out by hitting her head on the edge of the shower. I'll need to put her in my bed, so can you get the kettle on and boil some water while I get some towels and stuff ready. Okay?” He gripped his daughter's shoulder to steady her, Clem's blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “She's going to be fine. Trust me.” He told her, rummaging in one of the cupboards for extra towels.  
Before many more minutes passed, Abe was at the door, handing Jamie up to Mitch to take, the big man barely breathing heavily despite the extra burden. Mitch carried the still unconscious Jamie into his room and laid her on the bed, her head on the layer of towels he'd put over the pillow to catch the blood. Clem sidled into the room.  
“Clem, help me get her more comfortable. Can you take her boots and socks off, and I'll get her out of her jacket and jeans. We'll leave the rest on, okay?”  
“No problem. Is she really going to be alright, she looks really pale.” Clem observed, already starting on unlacing the well-worn boots.   
Mitch was carefully lifting Jamie to peel off her lightweight jacket, leaving on the t-shirt underneath, noting absently that she wasn't wearing any sort of bra. After gently laying her back down, he found the jeans were actually printed leggings, which peeled off easily down her legs and off her feet, leaving her in a pair of unadorned, sensible underwear. Clem took the clothes from him and carried them out of the room to put on Jamie's bunk. Mitch fetched his bag and pulled out a stethoscope to listen to her heart and lungs, then checked her pupil reaction, noting that she had a slight concussion. Clem had returned and he asked her for a bowl of warm water and some small kitchen towels for him to clean the blood from Jamie's hair and around the wound that was still bleeding, albeit sluggishly. While Clem did as he asked, he rolled his patient onto her side to examine the back of her head. He carefully parted her hair where the blood was wettest and checked again to make sure there was no of the evidence of a fractured skull. When Clem returned he started to sponge the blood away, Clem having to replace the bowl of bloody water several times before Jamie's hair was clean and the wound exposed. A sizable swelling pushed the skin up into a mound and a nasty split, cut deep into the scalp tissue, would need a couple of stitches. Mitch worked quickly, making the most of having his patient still under as he closed the wound with a steady hand. By now the bleeding had stopped and he was able to place a pad over the area before rolling her head back onto a clean towel, pulling up the sheet and blankets to cover her up to her shoulders. She still looked very pale, but her lips were good and pink and her pulse strong.  
“Clem, can I ask you to sit with her and let me know the instant she shows any sign of waking up?”  
His daughter nodded without hesitation.   
“Good girl. I'll just be outside, so any sign, no matter how small, you call me. Okay?”  
“Got it, Dad.”  
Mitch kissed her on the forehead then gathered up his medical bits and carried them out to the main room, stripping off his latex gloves and disposing of the final bowl of dirty, pink colored water. He rested for a moment, his hands on the edge of the kitchen bench, his shoulders hunched and head lowered. Feeling reaction set in, he drew in a deep breath and straightened up, ignoring the tremor in his hands.   
“Mitch?” Jackson poked his head inside the doorway, his feet on the steps. “Is she going to be okay?”  
Mitch walked over to the doorway and leaned against the opening. “She'll be fine. She has a nasty contusion on the back of her head, a possible concussion, but given the circumstances, she was lucky to get away with just that.”  
The drizzle had given over and Abe, together with Jackson, had lifted the carcass of the hybrid onto the picnic table, still wrapped in the shower curtain.   
“I've done a quick search of the campgrounds while you were working, for any evidence there was more than one of these, but this seems to be a loner. Possibly a youngster looking for an easy kill.” Jackson pulled away the plastic covering, then pulled back the lips to reveal the teeth. “There's very little wear on the back molars, and no chipping on the front which you would expect in an older, more mature animal.” He pointed to the spines. “I'd be wary of those, I'm pretty sure you'll find they are tipped in some sort of poison, either for defensive or maybe they try and jab their victims with one to slow it down, I don't know.”  
Mitch stood, one hand on his hip, the other pulling at his lower lip. “I'll take that into consideration when I do the necropsy on it.”  
Other people who had stayed in the campground started to gather around, looking at the dead creature and asking questions. Mitch opted out of the situation by saying he had a patient to check on, although Clem hadn't called him to say Jamie was waking up. He left Jackson and Abe to conduct the show and tell for the other campers and escaped into the Airstream.  
He carried a bowl and small towel into his bedroom, smiling at Clem.   
“She's going to feel pretty rough when she wakes up, and will likely puke, a natural reaction to the pain. You go make a start on something for us for lunch, but don't make anything for Jamie, she won't be hungry for a little while.”  
Clem shuffled off the bed and left the bedroom, leaving the sliding door open. Mitch put the bowl and towel on the shelf beside the bed and looked down at his patient. A little color had come back into her cheeks and he expected her to awaken soon. Even as he watched, her eyes under their lids were moving back and forth and her breathing was starting to accelerate. He started to speak to her.  
“Jamie, it's Mitch, try not to make any sudden moves, you're going to have one hell of a headache and probably feel sick, so when you're ready, I'll help you sit up and I have a bowl ready if you feel the urge to puke. Don't hold it in if you do, it'll only make it worse. Can you hear me, Jamie?”  
The woman in his bed moved her head, her brows drawing together as pain made itself felt, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.   
“Jamie, you're going to feel a lot of pain, but it will get better once you wake up. Can you open your eyes for me?” He leaned over her and was rewarded when her eyes opened and she blinked up at him, slightly unfocused and confused. Mitch smiled down at her, noting her pupils reacting normally and evenly.  
“There you are, now do you feel sick at all?” He noted the slight nod of her head, her brows still knitted together as she rode out the pain. “Then let's get you up.”  
One handed he managed to lift and roll her to the side of the bed, the bowl held in his other hand as she gagged and moaned at the change of position, resting on her side on one elbow, her free hand holding back her hair as she retched up her breakfast, what there was of it. When nothing more than bile came up, he took the bowl away and helped her lay back down, Jamie panting and lifting her hand to her head to find the source of her agony. Mitch captured her hand and brought it back down.   
“You have some stitches at the back of your head where you hit the rim of the shower stall. Luckily you didn't crack open your skull, but there's a sizable lump back there. Now you're awake I'll get you something cold to help take the swelling down. Do you still feel sick?”  
“No. Hurts.”  
“Yeah. I'll go get that ice pack for you. Try not to move.” He got off the bed and padded to the freezer, finding a small ice pack and then a thin washcloth to wrap it in. Returning to the bedroom he sat down again and gently lifted Jamie off the pillow, noting that there was no blood spotting on the clean towel. He positioned the icepack, Jamie letting out a whimper, her hand gripping his forearm as he held the pack in place with one hand, supporting her head with the other.   
“Try and relax, let you head press the pack into the pillow.” He cradled her head and lowered it onto the towel. “Don't worry about it feeling wet, there are thick towels protecting the pillow, and I have others to replace it if necessary.”  
“Sorry,” Jamie whispered, letting go her grip on his arm. She gazed up at him through lowered lids.  
“Nothing to be sorry for, you didn't ask to be attacked. When the swelling has gone down and you don't display any more symptoms, I'll give you some pain meds, but for now, I need to know exactly how you are feeling or if anything changes.”  
Jamie closed her eyes, her normally smooth forehead still wrinkled with discomfort. “Cold.”  
“Your head, or all over?” he asked, taking her hand in his. Her flesh was cool against his skin but not clammy.  
“Head,” she explained.  
“How's the pain?” he asked, not letting go of her hand. Jamie grimaced and squeezed his hand.  
“Cold, but better... a tiny bit.”  
“That's good. Do you feel sleepy?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Her brow started to relax, her lips parting on a sigh.  
“Not...really,” she whispered, the line between her brows smoothing out as the cold numbed the swelling, easing the pain. Even as he watched she slipped into sleep, all the lines of pain smoothing out, her fingers releasing their grip on his, Mitch placing her hand on the covers before getting to his feet. He turned and was surprised to find Clem leaning on the doorjamb, watching him.   
“Hey, kiddo. She's going to be fine.” He moved to pick up and cover the bowl, taking it with him out of the room to the sink to be emptied and cleaned. Clem followed him.   
“I know, Dad.” She went to the couch and sat down. “You really like her, don't you.”  
Mitch smiled at his daughter. “I hardly know her,” he hedged. “We know next to nothing about her, but she seems nice.”  
Clem gave him the look. “That's not what I meant.”  
Mitch carried on washing the bowl. “I know what you meant, honey, but I repeat what I said, I don't know her, and that's all there is to that.”  
“What do you need to know? She's pretty, she's kind, I like her and so do you.” Clem persisted.  
“Okay, I like her. I like a lot of people.” Mitch finally stopped wiping the bowl and reached for a dishcloth to dry it on. Clem was still giving him the look.   
“No, you don't. There have been umpteen times a lady has tried to get your attention and you did nothing, not even a smile.”  
Mitch put the bowl down and leant on the kitchen bench. “You've been watching me?”  
Clem shrugged. “I've seen them looking at you. You never looked at them the way you look at Jamie.”  
Mitch shook his head. He lifted his hand and wagged a finger at his overly perceptive daughter.   
“Whatever I might or might not feel for Jamie, she is my patient now so I can't feel anything for her but professional interest.”  
Clem tilted her head on one side. “Why? You're not a real doctor, you didn't take the hippo...hippocrusty...that oath thingy doctors have to take.”  
Mitch hung his head in defeat. “Lord protect me from my brainiac kid. Okay, I admit I do like her, is that a problem?”  
Clem sat up on her knees and smiled wisely at her father. “Hah...knew it.” She leaned forward on the back of the cushions. “Not a problem for me, but I'm glad you like her because I like her too.”  
Mitch sighed and leaned in towards her. “Then at least we agree on that. We both like her. Now can we end this inquisition?”  
Clem bounced to her feet, all smiles. “Okay. Are you ready to eat? I have lunch all ready!”

Jamie woke an hour or so later when Mitch made to move her, his hand cradling her head, his palm warm against her cheek. His other hand carefully removed the thawed icepack and replaced it with a fresh, frozen one. In between he lightly felt around the swelling, glad the ice seemed to be working. After carefully positioning her head back on the pillow she opened her eyes and looked up at him, his face close to hers as he bent over the bed. His warm brown eyes gazed into hers and she smiled lazily up at him, his lips bending into a returning smile.  
“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, keeping his voice low.   
“Still hurts, but better. I'm thirsty, can I have a drink?”  
He reached over to the shelf and produced a short glass with a straw in it. “Small sips for now, okay?” He held the straw to her lips and she took a small suck of the water before letting it go. A few seconds later and she repeated the action, Mitch holding it for her between sips.   
“How is your vision, not seeing double? Do you feel sick at all?” He queried.  
Jamie let the straw go. “Only see one of you and don't feel sick at all, just a bit dopey.”  
Mitch grinned. “Well, if you see Happy, Grumpy and Doc, say hello for me.”  
Jamie grinned back at him. “Very funny, but I thought you were the Doc?”  
“Only today, tomorrow I'll be a rodeo clown, then the day after I'll try my hand at driving a tractor.” Mitch joked, glad to see his patient was lucid and aware and answering back. Jamie let her eyes close before responding to his teasing. Already dozing off she muttered her reply.  
“I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out you could actually do those things, Mitch Morgan.”  
“Then I'll have to work harder to find something that will surprise you,” he whispered back, watching her until she dozed off again. Gathering up the soaked towel and liquid ice pack, he left the bedroom and pulled the door across. Wringing out the towel, he put the icepack back into the freezer. Pulling out a laundry basket he piled all the bloody towels and other cloths used in it, ready to take them to the camp sluice room and use the washing machine put there for the camp residents. He took his reloaded gun with him, instructing Clem to lock the door behind him, just in case. 

The crowd of campers that had been there to look at the dead hybrid was long gone, the body wrapped once more in the shower curtain and left on the picnic table for Mitch to examine when he was ready. Instead, he tramped over to the laundry room and dumped the bloody towels in one of the machines and turned it on, leaving the basket on top. Having an hour to kill before the machine was done, he walked back and bypassed the Airstream to approach Jackson and Abe's campervan. Abe had seen him coming and opened the door, welcoming him in. The trailer was similar in size to the Airstream but more modern and less cluttered with scientific equipment.   
“Fancy a drink?” Abe asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle.   
“Sure. Why not?” Mitch took the opened bottle and lifted it to chug down a mouthful, the cold liquid sliding down his throat like nectar.   
“How's Jamie?” Jackson asked, waving Mitch to take a seat, him and Abe taking seats opposite him.   
“She's good. Got one hell of a headache, but not seriously concussed or brain damaged.”  
“That must be a great relief for you,” Abe stated, reaching over to chink bottles with Mitch.   
“She's my patient, of course I'm glad she's alive and not more severely injured.”  
Jackson and Abe exchanged a look, Mitch shaking his head at them.   
“Don't you two start, I've already had the third degree from my daughter. Jamie is way younger than me for starters, and we hardly know each other, so cut it out!” He glared at the two friends opposite and they just grinned back, until he relented and shook his head, chuckling. “Okay, give me a break. What are you two? Fifteen again? Anyway, I would have thought if anyone was interested it would be you, Jackson. You're nearer her age.”  
Jackson held his hands out. “I tried flirting a little, she left me dead in the water. I would have had more success flirting with the Razorback.”  
Abe spoke up. “She has just lost her boyfriend.”  
Mitch pulled a face. “Don't think he was that kind of boyfriend, from what she said. Anyway, she wasn't particularly cut up over him.” He held up his hand. “Enough about Jamie, I was going to ask you guys what your plans are when you leave here?”  
“Any particular reason?” asked Jackson.  
“Safety in numbers?” Mitch fired back. “I just thought that if enough of us are heading in the same direction, we could form a sort of wagon train.”  
Jackson nodded and took a pull on his beer. Abe leaned forward. “I don't think that's a silly idea at all. What is your ultimate destination?”  
“Somewhere along the west coast. Don't much fancy spending another deep winter in an RV. Last two we spent mostly under a roof, wherever possible. This year I want to be somewhere warm.”  
Abe looked over at Jackson. “What do you think, Rafiki?”  
Jackson got to his feet and reached into an overhead storage, pulling out a number of maps. He spread them on the small dining table between the seats and looked at the distance still to cover to reach the coast. “Probably a decent day's drive, as the crow flies. How well supplied is this area likely to be?” He pointed to the expanse of Nevada between Yellowstone and the coast.  
“Probably not the best place to be if you run out of gas,” Mitch replied. There was suddenly a knock at the campervan door. Abe got up to open it, finding several campervan owners standing outside.   
“We're having a meeting over at the Carmichael's RV. Care to join in?”  
Abe looked back at Jackson and Mitch, who both nodded. Abe turned back to the men. “We'll be there.”

Jackson and Abe went over right away, Mitch promising to be there soon after checking on Clem and his patient. His knock brought Clem to the door, one hand still holding a colored pencil. She had been drawing at the dining table to occupy her time.   
“They're having a town meeting of sorts over at one of the RV's. I'm going over as well, wanna come?”  
Clem glanced down the passageway towards his bedroom. “What about Jamie?”  
“I'm just going to check on her now. She's probably still sleeping, so we can leave her for a bit, she'll be fine.”  
“Well, okay.” Clem didn't look entirely convinced, but went back to the table and started to pack up her pencils and artwork. Mitch quietly slid back the door to his bedroom to check on his patient. Jamie hadn't moved from where he'd left her, but when he sat down on the side of the bed her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. Mitch peered down at her, laying the back of his hand on her forehead.   
“How's the pain. On a range where ten is unbearable and one is none at all, where do you put yours, right now?”  
She furrowed her brow for a moment. “About a five. Not pleasant, but not the agony it was before.”  
“That's good. I'll change the ice pack, then Clem and I are going to a meeting called by the other campers. Will you be okay on your own?”  
She shook her head slowly. “I...um...I really need to pee.”  
“Ah. Yeah. Okay. Just hold on, and I'll be right back.” He got off the bed and went out into the living area where Clem waited patiently for him to be ready. “Clem, I have to help Jamie go to the toilet, so why don't you go over to the meeting, and I'll be there as soon as we're done here. Abe and Jackson are already over there, so stick with them. Okay?”  
“Sure. Tell Jamie I hope she feels better soon.” Giving her father a peck on the cheek, she skipped down the stairs and headed across the way to where the people were gathered. Mitch shut the door and returned to the bedroom, checking the shower/toilet on the way through to get it ready for use. Once more in the bedroom, he pulled back the bed covers, ignoring the slender legs and leaned forward to lift her into a sitting position.   
“Put your arms around my neck and I'll carry you to the bathroom.” He waited for her to do as instructed, then lifted her with an arm under her knees, and around her lower back. Jamie wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He carefully carried her the short distance to the shower combo then lowered her until she stood on her own feet. He held her against him until she indicated she was steady enough, then waited until she'd stepped into the shower. He pulled the door partially closed.  
“Call out if you feel faint or sick. I know this is embarrassing, but don't do anything stupid, okay?”  
Her low voiced assent came back. “Okay.”  
He stood with his back against the wall, out of sight, if not out of hearing. A few minutes later and she called him back. “I'm all done.”  
She managed to make it out of the shower before she had to grab on to him, a wave of giddiness leaving her shaky. Slowly they walked to the sink, Mitch holding her so she wouldn't fall, where she could wash her hands, then he picked her up in his arms again and carried her back to bed.   
The ice pack was still cold, so he decided not to change it, simply repositioned it to do the most benefit to the shrinking swelling at the back of her head. Jamie had closed her eyes and lay limply against the pillows, Mitch pulling the covers up once more to keep her warm. He sat down and offered her a drink, which she took, opening her eyes halfway to look up at him.   
“Thank you,” she murmured between sips, her lips pursing around the straw. After a bit she had had enough and he put the glass back on the shelf. For some reason Mitch was reluctant to leave, his fingers plucking some of the hair that had fallen onto her face, back behind her ear, smoothing the rest back with his hand brushing over her forehead. Lastly, he brushed the back of his fingers over the slope of her cheek, marveling at how soft it felt. Through it all Jamie lay supine, her eyes closed and a small smile tilting her lips.   
“I have to go,” he whispered. She opened her eyes a little way and gazed at him.   
“I know.”  
“I won't be long.”  
“I'll try not to miss you.” Her smile twitched a little wider.  
He sat beside her until he was sure she was asleep again, an emotion he couldn't quantify driving him to bend down and press a soft kiss to her forehead, as if she was Clem, only it wasn't Clem and the kiss wasn't fatherly.  
The noise from the meeting recalled him to the present and he hurriedly got up and left the bedroom and it's sleeping beauty. 

When Mitch joined the group clustered around the RV, a debate was vigorously under way. He sidled up to where Jackson was standing.   
“What's it all about?” he asked.   
“Pretty much what we were discussing. Of forming a sort of convoy to go to each person's original destination, so they arrive safely, then on to the next. They're just deciding on who's destination to make the first.”  
“How many we talking about?” Mitch asked, looking around at the crowd. Clem was sitting talking quietly to some of the younger members sitting around and on top of a picnic table behind the adults.   
“Quick headcount, about twenty five RV in favor of the convoy, a handful preferring to go their own way,” Jackson told him.   
“How many heading to the west coast?” Mitch queried.   
“About a dozen. The rest heading to points north and south of here. Those heading back east are doing their own thing.”  
“So, are you keen to throw your hat in with this lot, or risk a more direct route?” Mitch pushed.   
Jackson and Abe exchanged a look. “We kinda thought we'd tag along with you guys, but we're also liking the idea of being in a convoy, so I guess it's your call.”  
Mitch chewed his lip. He looked over at Clem chatting away to the other youngsters, looking so normal it sent a pang of guilt through him. So little of her life had been normal after the animals rebelled. Was it better to snatch her away before she made friends? Or tag along and let her have a tiny bit of normal teenage interaction.  
“I'll speak to Clem, and Jaime and see what they want to do. I'll give you an answer tomorrow.”  
Jackson gestured with his hand. “Fine with me. Nobody's planning on leaving tonight.”  
Mitch motioned towards the debate still ongoing amongst the campers. “We'll meet tomorrow morning and you can fill me in on any further decisions. Can you keep an eye on Clem?”  
Abe inclined his head. “I will make it my personal mission to keep Miss Clementine safe and well.”

Mitch left the gathering and headed for the laundry, where his towels were probably a tangled mess in the washing machine. Unloading the semi-damp heap into one of the driers, he fed in the appropriate coins and watched as the machine rumbled into life. Sitting down on a bench to wait, he reviewed how he could cover the cost of the extra fuel they'd need if they joined the convoy which would mean a longer journey to the coast.   
When he looked back over the last three years, he wasn't entirely proud of his law-abiding behavior as a role model for his daughter. He'd taken advantage of abandoned pharmacies to maintain his stocks of medical supplies and medications, he'd siphoned petrol and diesel from vehicles either to use for the RV or to trade for services or supplies. He'd even stooped to robbing tills of their loose change to provide a cash reserve in the cautious hope that the world would return to normal in the future and money would once more be required. He stole goods from abandoned supermarkets, even looted empty houses for tinned food and frequently lied about the extent of his medical abilities, to convince or reassure those he was treating that he was their best choice in exchange for something he needed. He'd been skating close to the edge on his wits and expertise, studying medical journals and a medical encyclopedia to plug the gaps in his knowledge from his truncated medical education, all the time telling himself he was doing it to provide for his daughter, for her future, to keep them alive. If the world ever did really go back to the way it was, and investigations were done using footage from security camera's he figured he'd been one of many on the nations most wanted list for looting as well as impersonating a qualified doctor. When you looked at his list of crimes it was long and nothing to boast about, but he wrestled frequently with his conscience that if he didn't do the things he'd done, both he and Clem would be sharing a mass grave in some unremarked and unacknowledged corner of a field, or worse, scattered never to be found at all. He hoped that by heading to the west coast he'd find some lawful form of work as life rebooted itself back to normal, then he could bury his criminal past of the last three years and build on something for the future. For now, he just had to figure out if their current supplies would last through an extended and meandering journey between Gardiner, Montana, where the RV park was, to San Francisco, California, the end of the line. 

The afternoon was drawing in when he arrived back at the Airstream, the basket of folded towels under his arm. Clem was sitting on the edge of the picnic table, swinging her legs while she waited for him. “Jamie's awake,” she announced. “And I thought she might like some soup, as she hasn't eaten all day.”  
“That's a good idea. Can I leave these for you to put away for me?”   
Clem nodded and took the basket, following him into the RV. He went straight to his bedroom to check on his patient. As soon as he sat on the side of the bed she opened her eyes and smiled up at him, very much awake and brighter than she'd been since hitting her head.   
“You're looking good,” he told her, pretending not to notice the flush of color that flowed through her skin. He held the back of his hand to her forehead. “No sign of fever, although a thermometer is more reliable than my hand.”  
“I don't feel chilled or shivery, so I trust your hand,” Jamie quipped back at him, the pair of them spending a long moment looking at the other as if seeing them for the first time. Clem had to clear her throat three times before either one of them noticed her. When her father turned to look at her, she advanced into the room with the tray she'd filled, going around the other side of the bed to bring it to Jamie.   
“I made you soup. Dad said you could probably eat something if you felt like it?” she announced, looking pointedly at her father. Mitch rolled his eyes and got off the bed, easing Jamie up into a sitting position and removing the damp towel and ice pack before pushing the pillow up to support her. Clem leaned over and let the legs drop down so the tray became a table to sit over the patient's legs. Jamie looked down at the offerings and sent Clem a grateful smile, her hectic blush of color fading but leaving her cheeks pink.   
“It looks delicious, but...I'm sorry, I'm as stupidly weak as a kitten.”  
“I could help you,” Clem suggested, walking around the bed to take over the seat her father had just vacated to make room.   
“I'd like that, if you don't mind?”  
Mitch bundled up the towel and soggy ice pack and left them to it, marveling at his daughter's generosity, and his patient's kindness in allowing Clem to help her. Not many women he'd known in the past would be humble enough to allow a twelve-year-old, unrelated to them, to act as nurse and feed them, regardless of how rotten they were feeling at the time. But as Clem had pointed out to him before, Jamie wasn't like other women he'd known or interacted with. She was certainly a far cry from the likes of Allison, the crusher of egos and emasculator of lovers, who'd thrown him over in a heartbeat for his own father, a man twice and more her age. That had left scars, wounds that he'd thought would never heal. They made him leary of successful, independent women with ambition, refusing to allow himself to be used as another stepping stone in someones climb to the top, whatever that was, be it social, career, or financial. Despite not knowing much about the woman currently in his bed, he felt in his gut she didn't have a mean bone in her body, that what you saw on the outside was the same on the inside. Of course, he could just be a little besotted with a pretty face and soft body, or maybe he had just gone a long time without sex so that anyone looked attractive who was alive and over twenty-one. Chuckling at his thoughts, he poured himself a bowl of the soup and sat at the table to eat it. 

Jamie managed two-thirds of the chicken noodle broth before she said she'd had enough. Clem offered her some of the other morsels, but Jamie refused them, saying she was full. Picking up the tray, Clem carried it out to the kitchen, divesting it of the dishes before folding the tray legs up and packing it away. What Jamie hadn't eaten she put on the table in front of her father to finish up.   
“How did she do?” Mitch asked, pitching his voice low so the patient wouldn't hear him talking about her. Clem sat herself down and picked at the grated cheese in one of the bowls.   
“She had most of the soup, but nothing else,” Clem reported.   
“Not surprising, I imagine her head is still aching. Pain tends to kill the appetite,” Mitch told her, adding some of the cheese to what remained of his soup. “This is good soup, by the way.”  
Clem smiled brightly. “Only the best from Campbells.” Clem suddenly looked struck by something. “Of course, that's her name – Jamie Campbell. I fed her her own soup!” she giggled, eyes dancing.   
Mitch lifted his bowl to drain the dregs and set it down, licking his lips. “I wonder if I licked her, Jamie would taste this good with cheese?” He waggled his eyebrows and Clem giggled again.  
“That's gross, Dad!” she snatched her hand away when her father grabbed it and stuck his tongue out to lick her. “Ugh, don't you dare! Ewww.”  
Mitch grinned at her, glad his daughter was still an innocent and didn't read any more into his joke about tasting Jamie than the face value. Having seen and felt the soft curves and slender limbs against his own body, he was hard pressed not to think about what his patient tasted like, if her skin was as soft as her cheek, all over. Her lips were positively irresistible, his own dying to test them and learn their texture and flavor. His mouth watered as he imagined what the inside of her mouth was like, all sweetness and sin, his own exploring every crevice and curve until he was drunk on her.  
“Dad?” Clem's voice tore through his inappropriately lustful imaginings.  
“Yeah?”  
“You've got that look on your face again.”  
Mitch struggled to erase any evidence, scrunching his face up as if perplexed.   
“What look would that be again?” he asked, one eyebrow raised high.  
Clem shook her head. “One that says you're not going to tell me anytime soon. Give me your bowl, I'll go wash the dishes.”  
Mitch surrendered his bowl and cutlery, so glad the table hid what his body was up to below the waist. 

The evening was well advanced before he went to make a final check on his patient, Clem having sat with her for most of the evening while he fiddled around with some samples he'd finally got around to taking from the dead hybrid before the sunset. It was raining again outside and the patter of water on the roof blended with the rushing river to mask any sounds from the other RV's all around them. As her final task before saying goodnight, Clem had brought Jamie a change of clothes to sleep in, plus spent some time brushing out her friend's hair, careful not to touch the area at the back of her head. After another trip to the toilet, this time aided by Clem, Jamie had made an abbreviated wash up then brushed her teeth, before Clem helped her back to bed. Mitch had studiously kept his back to the room, looking engrossed in his samples and notes, ignoring the quiet talking and movements going on behind him. Only when Clem finally emerged and announced she was going to bed, did he start to pack up his slides and finish off his notes for the day. After kissing his daughter goodnight, he switched off most of the lights and sat at the dining table to read through one of the past issues of National Geographic that formed part of his library. An hour later and he decided to go and see Jamie before he turned in. He found her turned on her side, facing the empty side of his bed so he walked over to that side and sat down. He leaned down and rested on his elbow facing her, Jamie opening her eyes when she felt the bed dip.   
“Hi,” he murmured.  
She smiled softly at him, her hair falling forward. Unable to resist, he reached over and gently gathered up the rogue hair and pulled it back off her face, tucking it softly behind her ear. Her eyes never left his face, showing no sign of alarm at his familiarity.   
“Have you come to take me back to my bed?” she asked, blinking slowly.  
“No. Why would I do that?”  
“Because this is your bed, of course. I'm sure I'll be just as comfortable in the bunk bed.”  
“And as your doctor, I say you are better off here. I'll sleep in the bunk bed.”  
Jamie frowned. “You're too tall, you'll be all scrunched up.”  
He grinned at her concern for his comfort. “I'll manage. How's the head feeling?”  
“About a three or four. It's bearable. Can I ask you a question?”  
“Sure.”  
“Clem told me you're not a real doctor because you didn't finish your term of residency, she said you only stuck it out for three years then switched to becoming a veterinary pathologist instead.” she paused, drawing in breath. “Why?”  
Mitch looked away, breaking eye contact and biting his lip. “I dread to think what else she's been telling you...”  
Jamie reached across the gap between them, her fingers brushing over his hand resting on the covers. “I'm sorry, if it's too personal, then ignore me. It's none of my business...”  
Mitch captured her hand before she could withdraw it. “No. You trust me to take care of you, the least I can do is explain myself. Clem is right, I didn't complete my residency which means I'm not a board-certified physician.” He paused, marshaling his thoughts. Absently he played with her fingers, threading them through his. “That's doesn't mean I'm not qualified, it means I can't practice medicine or treat patients lawfully.”  
“Why didn't you complete your residency?”  
He looked up to meet her eyes. “ I gave it up once I realized that it meant doing what doctors do: Primarily dealing with people and their pain. Accepting death is one thing, everyone dies eventually, but having to tell the person closest to them, to carry the burden of their grief and anger, I couldn't do it. It became an issue I couldn't overcome. I'd seen doctors perform that task and not break a sweat, but I realized, probably too late, that I didn't want to become that person, didn't want to become so inured to the suffering that I could tell a person they loved most in the world had died and not feel something. So I quit.” He felt a haunting sorrow as past images of grieving relatives scrolled like a slide show through his mind's eye. He closed his eyes, lifting the hand he still held up to his mouth to press his lips to the soft palm, needing to feel human contact even briefly. When he opened his eyes, their still joined hands were back on the cover. “After that, I had sufficient credits to jump tracks to study veterinary pathology - the study of what causes animal illnesses, the why and wherefore's, giving me minimal contact with people and their overwhelming emotions as possible.” He kept his eyes lowered, unable to look into Jamie's and see the condemnation in them.   
“I think you would have made a wonderful doctor, despite what you say,” Jamie told him. He lifted his eyes to meet her, seeing in them nothing but empathy, no hint of any judgment or blame.   
“That's because you can't see the back of your head and how bad I am at sewing.”  
Jamie smiled broadly, amused by his humor, just as he hoped. “I should let you get some sleep, it's late.” He lifted his hand and she slowly drew hers away.   
“I don't suppose I could have something tonight?”  
“For the headache?” he asked. Jamie slowly nodded.   
“I'll see what I have.” He rolled off the bed and got up, padding out of the room to his small dispensary. There he took out a strip of Ibuprofen and filled a glass with water. Carrying them back to the bedroom, he approached her side of the bed. Jamie tried to sit up but had to accept his help to lift her up sufficient to take the pills. That done, she carefully wriggled back down under the covers.   
“Thank you.”  
“Do you want me to leave the light on?” he asked.   
“No, I'll be fine. I still think you should be sleeping in your own bed,” she whispered, her eyes already closing.   
“Enjoy it while it lasts, I'll probably evict you tomorrow.” He saw her mouth curl up into a smile again and congratulated himself for amusing her once more.   
He waited around until he was sure she was well away, then leant down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering a moment longer than necessary before straightening up, leaving the glass and pills on the shelf and leaving the bedroom, switching off the single side light as he went.   
He prepared for his own bed in quick order then crawled into the bottom bunk, his knees drawn up as it was too short for his long legs. Despite that, he quickly dropped off to sleep.

He awoke a couple of hours later and lay in the bed wondering what had woken him. He strained to hear anything happening outside but it was all quiet, and Clementine was still snoring peacefully in her bunk. He shut his eyes thinking he must have dreamed it, when the noise came again, this time coming from his bedroom. Easing himself out of the bottom bunk and careful not to hit his head on the metal frame, he got up and padded down the hall to the bedroom door. It was pitch dark in the room so he reached back and switched on the small light in the shower combo, to provide enough light to see by but not shine on the occupant in his bed. The noise came again, longer this time and he could make out words coming from the restless sleeper. Jamie was dreaming.   
He approached the bed slowly, not wanting to startle her if she awoke and saw his looming figure beside the bed. She had pushed the covers down to her waist and one hand gripped the sheet tightly, while the other was up near her head, holding on to the pillow for dear life. He wasn't surprised that she was dreaming, only concerned she didn't hurt herself if it turned into a nightmare, which seemed a distinct possibility if her words were anything to go by. She seemed to be reliving the attack in the shower block, her eyes moving rapidly under their lids, her head tossing slightly against the pillow, lips moving all the time as she whimpered and moaned her distress. Given the differing emotional trauma's of the past few days, it was little wonder she was experiencing bad dreams. When Clem had suffered the same, he'd been free to draw her into his arms and cuddle her until she fell back to sleep, her dragons slain by her father. Jamie wasn't his daughter. Despite that, he did what he could to influence her dreams back into less frightening images. He stroked the back of his fingers down her cheek, smoothed her hair back from her forehead with his hand and whispered sweet nothings near her ear, telling her she was safe, that nothing could hurt her, that she didn't need to be afraid. It seemed to work for awhile, then something shifted and she suddenly pressed her head back into the pillow, her face falling into lines of sheer terror.  
“It's going to kill me, oh, God, I'm going to die...someone...anyone...please help me! Pleeease!”  
Her eyes suddenly popped open as she labored to draw in a breath, her hand reached up and clawed at him, her mind still caught up in the dream. Unable to bear the level of her distress, he carefully pulled her upright and pressed her face into his shoulder, holding her there, talking to her all the time, telling her she was safe, that the creature was gone. She shuddered and shivered against him, her fingers clutching convulsively at his t-shirt, his shoulder getting damp as she sobbed her fears out. Like he did with Clem, he rocked slowly, rubbing the hand supporting her back up and down, while whispering that she was safe, over and over. Soon the shivering stopped and she slumped against him, her hands no longer clutching but finding their way to wrap her arms around his chest and hold on to his shirt at the back.   
Sometime later she made to pull away and he released his hold on her, still cradling the back of her head to prevent her hitting the still tender knot under her hair by accident.   
“I'm so sorry...” Jamie started to say, but Mitch shushed her.  
“Nothing to worry about. I half expected this might happen. You've had a pretty rough ride lately, and the mind sometimes needs to go over stuff just to remind us, so we can cope with it.”  
Jamie shuddered. “I don't think I can sleep anymore tonight. I don't want to dream again.”  
Mitch made to pull away and get up but Jamie clutch at his t-shirt.  
“Hey, it's alright, I'm just going to switch out the light...”  
“No. Please leave it on, I hate the dark sometimes, it hides so much...”  
“Okay. I'll leave it on. Look, when Clem has her night-terrors, she comes and sleeps in my bed and they don't come back. I don't want to sound creepy, but it might work for you, too.”  
“It doesn't sound creepy, I used to do the same with my mom, she could always keep the monsters away with her hugs as well.”  
“You care to test if my hugs will do the same? I'll even sleep on top of the covers if you don't entirely trust me to behave. I won't be offended if you say no, after all we hardly know each other.”  
“I trust you.” Her instant, whispered retort slayed him, something inside his chest melting into goo.   
“Alright then, let me go around to the other side and get in, then use me as your personal soft toy or comforter, whatever works for you, okay?”  
He did exactly as he said, laying quite still on the other side of the bed, while Jamie slowly approached, sliding across the bottom sheet and laid her head on his shoulder, settling it carefully while he positioned his arm about her shoulders, nice and high and not near anything inappropriate. He waited for her to stop moving before pulling the covers up over them both.   
“Comfortable?” he asked. He felt her feet touch his leg, her knees pressed up against his outer thigh. Slowly but surely she relaxed against him, tucked up into his side, her head heavy on his chest.   
“Thank you.” Her barely heard whisper drifted up to him and he smiled. With his free hand, he took off his glasses and put them on the shelf in their usual place, keeping his movement slow so as not to disturb his patient. Soon he felt her relax incrementally as sleep drew her back into its toils, her breath puffing against his neck in a steady flow. He turned his head so that her hair touched his lower face and nose in a cloud of silky strands, lightly scented with shampoo and something unique to her. No longer cramped in the bunk, he was able to stretch his legs and feet to their fullest, his body relaxing against the familiar feel of the mattress, sleep dragging him under with no difficulty at all.


	3. Westward Bound...Eventually

Jamie awoke to bars of sunlight across the bed, the sun well up and her stomach protesting the lack of nourishment the previous day. She was alone in the bed but distinctly remembered having someone holding her, rocking her like a child while she cried out her fears. If she didn't dream that, then falling asleep held against a solid body was probably not a dream either. She reached up a hand to find the source of the dull ache still grinding away at the back of her skull. She encountered the lump with its spiky row of neat stitches and gently touched it, wincing when the pressure resulted in a spike of pain that quickly receded once she drew her hand away. The campground was obviously well up and active, the sound of doors closing, people talking on their way to and fro past the campervan, the rushing of water underlying it all. Tentatively she raised herself up on her elbows, when that didn't cause her head to lift off she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Not feeling nauseous or dizzy, she slowly swung her legs over to the side of the bed and gingerly sat on the edge, fingers digging into the mattress to keep her balance. A glass of water sat on a shelf with a slide of pills, her memory reminding her she'd had some last night. Thinking it a good way to start the day, she popped a couple out of the blister pack and swallowed them and all the water. Letting that settle for a moment, she gripped the shelf and pulled herself upright, bracing her free hand against the wall to help keep her balance. When nothing untoward happened she tried a step, keeping a hand on the wall, then another and another, moving around the end of the bed one step at a time, heading to the toilet. With that taken care of, she carefully made her way to the kitchen and peered out, seeing people and vehicles moving back and forth, but no sign of Mitch or Clem. Sliding into the dining table seating, she sat down with a bump, breathing a little heavily but still upright, her head still on her shoulders.   
The door to the RV suddenly opened and Clem jumped up the stairs.  
“Oh, you're up already, I was going to bring you breakfast...well, lunch in bed!” The youngster shut the door behind her and flung herself into the seat opposite, looking hot and sweaty.   
“What have you been doing?” Jamie asked. Clem shrugged.  
“Just playing tag with the other kids. We stayed around the campervans, but it was fun. I was in twice.” She bounced up and filled a glass of water, downing it thirstily. “Do you want one?”  
Jamie shook her head slowly, bracing herself in case her injury objected to the movement. “No, thanks. Where's your dad?”  
Clem rinsed out the glass and set it on the side before answering. “I think he's next door with Abe and Jackson. Everyone is talking about moving out soon.” Clem lifted the front of her t-shirt and lowered her head to sniff. “Boy, I am stinky, aren't I? Do you mind if I use the shower? Dad said the camp block was off limits after what happened to you.”  
“Go ahead, I'm not going anywhere.”  
Clem whizzed around the small space and snagged a towel and change of clothes. “Won't be long!” Then she was pulling the door to the shower across, leaving Jamie on her own again. Inching across to the window she leaned against the glass and let the sun warm her, closing her eyes and relaxing against the soft squabs. She zoned out, not hearing the door open or Mitch enter. When she roused a few minutes later, he was sitting opposite her, regarding her intently.   
“Sorry, I must have dropped off, the sun is so warm.”  
“How's the head?” he asked.  
“I took some of the painkillers when I woke up, so right now, it's not so bad.”  
“Clem in the shower?”  
“Yup. She told me the camp showers were off limits.”  
“Well, we're not going to be here much longer, so why take the risk?”  
“Care to fill me in on the latest?” she levered herself upright and placed her hands flat on the table to steady herself.   
“Dizzy?” Mitch asked, looking at her shrewdly.   
“A little, but it's probably because I'm hungry, low blood sugar.”  
“Probably. What do you fancy?”  
“A little cereal and fruit would be nice.”  
“Only got powdered milk, is that okay?”  
“Fine. Thank you.”  
He got up and started to pull out stuff from cupboards. Clem appeared from the shower, rubbing her long hair, a strong smell of shampoo and soap accompanying her.  
“Hey, Dad. Are you getting Jamie something to eat?”  
“Sure am. You want anything?”  
“Whatever she's having will be fine.” Clem wandered over to the bottom bunk and sat down, still getting the wet out of her hair. She peered at Jamie who smiled back.  
“You don't look so hot,” Clem observed. “Dad? She's gone all pale again.”  
Jamie let out a small laugh. “Hey, I'm right here, and I'm naturally pale, I'll have you know. I'm fine, just a little hungry, and...thirsty.”  
Mitch appeared beside her and placed a bowl, spoon, and glass in front of her.   
“Only have powdered juice, but it's not bad.” He raised his hand to feel her forehead with the back of his fingers. “Still no temperature, you're good. Ready for yours, Clem?”  
Jamie looked down at her bowl and mixed the ingredients with her spoon before taking a mouthful and chewing slowly. “Mmm, this is good.”  
Mitch set the same down for Clem, giving his daughter a kiss on the top of her damp head when she settled in the seat opposite Jamie. “Eat up.”  
He sat down himself once he had a hot drink, watching the two of them eat their way through the cereal, Jamie took her time, Clem wolfing hers down with a youthful appetite and usual lack of table etiquette. Her food and drink consumed, she turned to her father.  
“Can I go out again? I said I'd show the gang my bow and do some target practice.”  
“Sure. Just don't wander away from the campgrounds, understand? And don't shoot anyone, no matter how annoying they are.”  
“Daaad!” Clem go up from the table and took her dishes to the sink, dumping them in before going to a storage cupboard and pulling out her bow and quiver, the latter full of arrows. Then she was sliding on an arm protector, putting on a peaked cap, and fingerless gloves that had only the very tips of the fingers cut off. When all the gear was on, she looked confident and assured.   
“See you later,” she called, opening the door and jumping down the steps.   
Mitch slid into the seat opposite Jamie, watching through the window as his daughter marched across the access road to where a group of kids was gathered. Clem instantly became the center of their attention.   
“You were going to tell me what you've got planned?” Jamie reminded him, pushing away her empty bowl and reaching for her glass of juice.   
“The campers had a meeting while you were out of it. They think it's a good idea to form a convoy for the next part of everyone's journey. They've mapped out a route that sort of drops people off as they go, so no one has to travel alone.”  
“Sounds sensible. Are we part of that convoy?”  
“Yeah. It'll add a few days to our trip west, but nothing we can't manage with some additions to our supplies.”  
“You know, we could just siphon the petrol out of my junker and leave it behind. You're not going to have time to fit a tow bar if we're part of this convoy.”  
“Already got that sorted. One of the campers son's has volunteered to drive your car until we find somewhere to rig up a way to tow it. That's if you don't mind someone else driving your car?”  
“Go for it,” Jamie replied. “I suppose there may be instances where having a car could be handy as opposed to driving an RV.”  
“Not exactly subtle or discreet,” Mitch agreed, patting the wall of the RV. “But reliable.”  
Jamie fiddled with her glass. “So where is our first stop?”  
Mitch stared out the window, his elbow on the table top, chin resting on his knuckles. “It's a rather tortuous route, but first stop is Great Falls, Montana, about three hours north of here. Then we travel south to Idaho Falls, before heading further south to Salt Lake City, Utah. By then we will have lost five of the group.”  
Jamie pushed her empty glass away. “How many are we starting with?”  
“Twenty five RV's, fifteen of which are families with one or more kids, eight are couples without kids, and two singles traveling alone. We fall into the 'family with kids' category, in case you were wondering.”  
Jamie felt a warmth bloom inside her. It had been so long since she'd even had a family, let alone be considered part of one. She ducked her head to hide the prickle of tears. Mitch wondered at her distress but didn't embarrass her further by drawing attention to it.   
“A lot of the campers, like us, are heading for the west coast to try their luck at work, and to spend a mild winter somewhere. I know I never want to spend another winter 'under canvas', so to speak.”  
Jamie lifted her head, her emotions finally under control. “Why not go further south, like to Mexico or South America, if you want somewhere warm?”  
Mitch let out a bark of cynical laughter. “If you think it was bad for us, here in the States, it was far worse south of the border. If the animals didn't get you, the drug cartels – who dug in behind their heavily fortified compounds, killed off the rest. Think of all the people both there and here suddenly having their hard drugs supply cut off, it was brutal. More people died from drug withdrawal madness than from being shot, the first time in America's history. They wouldn't be able to handle the symptoms and did the craziest shit...” He looked up from tracing a finger over the pattern on the table top, noting that Jamie had gone rather paler than usual. “But you don't need to hear about all that. Needless to say, we didn't include going south as part of our plans.”  
“So you are hoping to get work when we reach the west. What as? I imagine they are having some of the same problems we have here with fuel and food shortages, lack of infrastructure, lack of enough people to fill the necessary positions to keep basic necessities like clean water, food production and sewage facilities going. Were you planning on hiring out into one of those services?”  
Mitch leant back. “Possibly. I still have a degree in Chemistry. Pretty useful and essential for water purification, or something along those lines.”  
Jamie stared at him. “What about your medical experience?”  
“I told you, I'm not legally a doctor.”  
“But the people in smaller towns and communities won't care about that, they just want someone to go to for help. How many of the big hospitals are still operational? Only a few, and only on a skeleton staff. I would think they'd be glad of anyone with medical experience, and you can prove you're just lacking a couple of years residency, which could be argued you completed during the animal revolt.”  
“But I'm not board certified, and even if I was to apply to be, there's so few who could preside over a certification board hearing, I don't imagine it's even on the list of things to be discussed and sorted, let alone a priority.”  
“You're just throwing up obstacles for the sake of it. You're a good doctor, Mitch. Clem told me about all the people you helped during the worst of it. Look how you taught Clem to help you, and look how you saved me. You could help so many other people.”  
“I'm also a thief and a looter. Don't look too closely at what I've done, Jamie, you might not like what you find.”  
She leaned forward, determined to make him look at himself in a better light.  
“I know you are kind, generous, a wonderful father, clever and smart...”  
“Stop right there!” Mitch held up his hand, his expression tight. “You don't know me. I've done things...” He grimaced. “Whatever, my character is not up for debate. My primary concern is, and always will be, what is best for my daughter, for Clementine. Anything or anyone else comes a long way down the list of priorities.”  
Jamie reared back a little as is he'd slapped her. The fire went out of her eyes and she ducked her head. “Of course it is, and I'm the last person to suggest otherwise.” She put a hand to her head, her well of energy suddenly dry. “I think, if you don't mind, I'll go back to bed and rest for a bit. You'll have your room back for you to sleep in tonight.” She got to her feet and walked slowly away from the table.  
Mitch stared out of the window and cursed under his breath. He berated himself silently for letting his temper get the better of him. Instead of spending the time with her getting to know her better, he'd thrown up a wall, shutting her out and insulting her. Of course she retreated, who wanted to sit with a brute like him telling her she was less than nothing in the grand scheme of things. For better or worse, until she chose to leave, she was part of his family now, someone needing his protection, as much, if not more so, than Clementine. He got up and cleared the table, not stopping to wash the dishes, more focused on forming an apology to Jamie.   
Approaching the doorway to the bedroom, he heard the sound of a hitched breath. Looking into the room he saw Jamie sitting on the side of the rumpled bed, her shoulders hunched and head lowered. Even as he debated the sense of going in, he saw her lift a hand and wipe something off her face. Making up his mind he rounded the bed and sat down next to her.  
“I'm sorry, I'm a brute and you didn't deserve that put down when you'd said all those nice things about me.”  
Embarrassed to be caught crying, she turned her head away, swiping at her cheeks to dry them. “No, you're right, you should be thinking of Clem and her future. Don't worry about getting someone to drive my car, I'll do that and get out of your hair.”  
“You can't drive with a head injury, so forget it.”  
His peremptory tone made her turn her head to stare at him. “You can't tell me what I can and can't do!” she fired back, eyes sparking. “If I want to pack up and leave, you can't possibly stop me.”  
The angrier she got, the calmer he felt. “You don't want to leave.”  
“Maybe I do, maybe I should go and stay with Jackson and Abe.” That stung him, the thought of Jackson restarting his campaign to flirt with her, and this time her responding to that made him see red.   
“You're my patient and you'll do as I say if you know what's good for you!”  
Jamie gaped at him, furious at is proprietary tone. “You keep saying you're not a doctor, so I can't be your patient if we follow your logic. And you're not my husband or boyfriend either to tell me what I'm allowed to do.”  
“No, I'm not any of those at the moment. I'm just a man getting very frustrated by your illogical arguments and nonsensical behavior.”  
Jamie bristled, her face pink with indignation. “For fuck's sake, make up your mind. One minute I'm your patient, then I'm nonsensical....”  
He shut her up by simply sealing her mouth with his own and thrusting his tongue between her lips to prevent further argument. After a moment of shocked surprise, Jamie enthusiastically kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. A minute later and they broke apart, pulling back far enough to stare at each other, both breathing heavily, lips glossy with moisture, eyes wide in surprise.   
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked breathlessly.  
“Because I wanted to shut you up, plus I've been dying to kiss you ever since I first saw you.”  
She blinked at him, eyes roaming over his face, testing the honesty of his statement. “Since the first time?”  
“Every time I looked at you,” he reached up a hand to smooth over the side of her face, Jamie leaning into his touch. “I wanted to find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked.”  
“Do I?” she asked, her lips parted as she drew breath.  
“Better...” he muttered before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. This time it was less of an attack and more a slow exploration, molding lip to lip, skin to skin, tips of tongues coming out to introduce themselves and dance, sliding one over the other. His arm came around her back to pull her closer, her arms draping over his shoulders and around his neck, fingers burrowing into the hair at his nape, stroking over his scalp, threading and lifting then starting again. Somewhere along the way she was sitting astride his lap, the kiss changing and shifting in pressure and depth, his glasses coming off to lay on the bed covers, his hands exploring the planes of her back, pushing up the sleeveless top she wore to explore more. Jamie pushed on his shoulders slightly and he lay back on the bed, pulling her down with him, their lips never parting even when he kicked off his boots and moved them both up the bed, his hand cradling her head so there was no pressure on her injury. Her hands were as busy under his t-shirt as his were, under her top, fingers stroking over warm skin, hers smoothing over the muscles of his chest and arms, his finding and cupping her perfectly formed breast with their hard points.   
“God, you're perfect,” he murmured in a short break between kisses. A second later and he was devouring her once more, drinking deep and thinking he had never felt anything so right in his life before.   
Neither of them heard the door to the RV open or the approach of Clem, who now stood in the entrance to the bedroom and stared, her mouth hanging open at her father and new friend nearly half naked and sucking face like there was no tomorrow.   
“DAD!”  
Mitch and Jamie froze like statues. Mitch pulled his mouth away from Jamie and peered over her shoulder, squinting without his glasses which had fallen to the floor. Slowly, wordlessly, they retracted their hands and pulled away from each other, Jamie tugging down her top, Mitch clearing his throat and swinging his legs over to the side of the bed. He tried to remember where he'd put his glasses.  
“Um...Clem, honey, it's not,” he stopped, cleared his throat and started again. “Actually it is what you think it is, but...”  
“God. Dad. I didn't think you'd do this...why do you have to ruin everything!” Clem spun on her heel and ran away, her sobs loud and messy sounding. Mitch cursed under his breath, embarrassed at how far he'd let it go with Jamie, who was still his patient, for fuck's sake, and sorry that Clem had seen her father behave so badly. He looked over at Jamie, who had sorted out her clothes and sat with her knees drawn up, her expression unreadable, her eyes troubled. Mitch indicated the direction his daughter had fled.  
“I'd better go see if I can repair the damage...”  
“Your glasses are on the floor on this side,” Jamie informed him, resting her cheek on her knees, her arms wrapped around them, her body language screaming - 'don't touch'.  
Mitch moved around the end of the bed and picked his glasses off the floor. “We'll talk later,” he told her before leaving the room, sliding the door shut behind him.   
She remained on the bed, listening unashamedly to the conversation taking place at the other end of the Airstream, the voices muted somewhat and when Mitch talked softly, almost unintelligible. At length she heard the door to the RV open and slam shut again, reverberating through the vehicle. Moments later Mitch pushed open the bedroom door and stood there, looking at her. Jamie returned his steady regard, refusing to look ashamed or embarrassed. Mitch let out a sigh and broke eye contact, walking the short distance to the empty side of the bed and throwing himself down, his arm coming up to cover his eyes.  
“Is Clem alright?” Jamie asked, changing her position so she faced him.   
“She'll get over it. She was mad at me the way a kid gets mad when their best friend plays with their favorite toy without asking. She doesn't always like to share.”  
“I'm sorry, it's my fault. She bound to feel protective of her father...”  
Mitch interrupted. “Not me....you! She was mad at me thinking I was doing something that would make you want to leave.”  
Jamie looked surprised. “Oh. Really?”  
“You don't want to leave, do you?” Mitch asked, lifting his arm to look at her.  
“I don't think so...” Jamie started to reply only to be interrupted again.  
“I mean, if what I did makes you want to leave, I can promise I won't do it again. It's not worth you leaving over and Clem needs a women friend, now more than ever.”  
“Why?”  
Mitch looked down at his feet at the end of the bed. “Because all girls need someone to talk to about...stuff. Puberty, periods, all of that, you know?”  
“I guess. You don't need to make that promise.”  
Now he had to repeat himself. “Promise?”  
“That you won't do what you were doing, ever again.”  
He frowned at her, working through what she said. “So, you don't mind what we were doing?”  
She shook her head, wincing when a spike of pain reminded her of her wound. Mitch saw the fleeting expression of pain and sat up. “Let me see, is it hurting again?” He reached for her head.  
“Not really,” she held up her hands to stop him, Mitch halting his advance. “But it might benefit from having a kiss to make it better?”  
Mitch scrunched up his face, his mouth pulling into a smile. “It has been known to have great healing properties. A bit like hugs.”  
Jamie slowly lowered her legs before scooting down the bed until her head was on the pillows and she was looking up at him. “I've heard that too. Care to experiment to prove the hypothesis?”  
Mitch moved to align his body with hers, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her over to the center of the bed and closer to him. “It might take more than one or two tests to provide a viable sample.”  
“Could take hours, maybe days or weeks,” Jamie added, watching him intently as he moved closer until they were an inch apart.  
“Months or years even...” Mitch whispered, lowering his head to capture her lips with his, pulling her body flush against his, her arms reaching up and around his neck, binding them together. They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, lazily kissing and teasing, hands resuming their stroking and molding over muscle and flesh. Mitch dipped his head to nuzzle and torment the breasts bared when he pushed her top up, Jamie making noises that encouraged his thorough attention to her engorged nipples, drawing them deep into his mouth and sucking hard making her squirm and press herself harder against him. Her fingers raked through his hair, hands pulling his head up so she could latch on to his mouth, kissing him senseless, his body so hard it hurt.   
Where the make-out session would have ended seemed inevitable to those involved, but a loud knocking on the campervan's door precluded them finding out.   
“Clem wouldn't have knocked,” Mitch panted, his chest heaving. Jamie blinked up at him, not entirely understanding what he was saying. As they lay still, the knocking came again, and they hurriedly pulled apart, Mitch scooting off the bed while tugging his t-shirt down, Jamie rearranging her clothing and pushing the hair off her face in a vain attempt to appear the opposite of what she did, a woman who had been moments away from being thoroughly ravished.  
Mitch walked up to the door, drawing in a couple of calming breaths to slow his heart rate, raked his fingers through his disordered hair and adjusted his glasses, then yanked open the door.   
“What?”  
The person on the other side reared back on being barked at, Jackson smirking when he took in Mitch's disheveled appearance and obvious annoyance at being interrupted.   
“You okay? You look a little...er...flustered.”  
“I'm fine.” He glanced back towards the bedroom, then moved forward, forcing Jackson to take a step back, Mitch closing the door behind him. “What can I do for you?”  
“Just came to tell you we've finished digging the hole for the body. Do you have all the samples you want?”  
Mitch blinked at the younger man, his mind a blank for a moment. “Body? Oh, you mean the hybrid. Yeah, I have all I need. Be my guest and bury it, please.”  
“Oh, and Clem is having lunch at our place. She seemed a bit upset but wouldn't say what the matter was.”  
Mitch suddenly found the ground fascinating and stared at his feet. “I'll talk to her later, see what the problem is. Thanks for taking care of her.”  
Jackson grinned. “Happy to. She has Abe wrapped around her little finger, but then he always was a pushover for kids. Brawn on the outside, marshmallow in the center.” Jackson suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh, and we have a departure time. Dawn, tomorrow. The Hagar's kid, Logan, will drive Jamie's car.”  
“That's all settled then. Dawn tomorrow. Great.” Mitch looked up. “Need a hand with the body?”  
Jackson shook his head. “Nope. All sorted. I'll leave you now and you can go back to...whatever it was you were doing?”  
Mitch glared at him before turning to climb the steps, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him, the sound of Jackson's laughter following him in.   
Jamie was sitting on the side of the bed and looked up when he came in. Mitch stood at the end of the bed, his hands on his hips, looking at her, then he did a one-eighty and fell back on the bed, the mattress bouncing when he landed.   
“Did you hear all that?” he asked, removing his glasses to rub one of his eyes.   
“Most of it,” Jamie answered, turning to lay on the rumpled covers.  
“Do you think the fates are trying to tell us something?” he asked, shifting to lay on his side facing her, his head supported by his hand.  
Jamie gave a one-shoulder shrug. “If you mean are they saying to slow down, take our time, don't rush our fences....maybe. Or they could be saying that the busy, middle of the day is not the best time to be making out with all that's going on around us?”  
“I think Jackson suspected something,” he stated, grimacing.  
“So. You can't stop people thinking.”  
“No, but I don't want you to be embarrassed either.”  
“That ship sailed the moment you offered for me to sleep over,” Jamie retorted wrily. Mitch looked at her in obvious confusion.  
“What do you mean?”  
Jamie looked at him sadly. “What do you think I mean? There wouldn't have been a person in this campground that came to any other conclusion than I asked for your 'protection'.” She made air quotes with her fingers when she said it. “Don't sweat it, not the first time, won't be the last.”  
Mitch looked struck dumb. “You're saying that when I offered to take you with us, everyone else interpreted that to mean I was asking you for payment for services rendered?  
Jamie nodded. “Pretty much.”  
“So despite you just having lost your boyfriend, and me having a teenage daughter onboard, they assumed I asked you to prostitute yourself for a free ride.”  
“What does it matter what anyone thinks? You didn't ask, I didn't offer, this...” she indicated the space between them. “Is whatever you want it to be. If you think it's too upsetting for Clem to have us sleeping together, then I'll go back to sleeping on the bottom bunk. If you think Clem can deal with us having some alone time, then I'm happy with that too. Sort of friends with benefits, type of thing.”   
Mitch slowly sat up, his back to her, legs over the end of the bed. “I'm not sure which is worse. Your cold-blooded acceptance that everyone thinks you're a slut who would sleep with a man nearly old enough to be her father, just for a roof over her head, or that I'm some predatory male who blackmails a grieving woman into my bed without a shred of decency. Neither of those options is an image I'm keen to promote.”  
Jamie got off the bed and walked to the end, coming to stand between his legs.   
“Mitch? Look at me.” She waited for him to lift his head, his brown eyes showing the hurt he was feeling. “How old do you think I am?”  
“Is this a trick question?” he asked, a glint of humor returning to his eyes.   
“No. But I think you look at me and think I'm a lot younger than I actually am. I'm thirty-two, Mitch. I can even show you my birth certificate if you still don't believe me.”  
“I'm still a lot older than you,” he mumbled, bowing his head. Jamie moved forward so his head was resting on her stomach just under her breasts. She moved her hands up to stroke over his crown down to his nape.   
“You realize I am technically old enough to be Clementine's mother?”  
His arms came up to loop around her waist, his hands resting, splayed across her back under her nightshirt.   
“If you were really Clem's mom, and we'd stayed together all that time, you'd have a parcel of kids to fill the trailer.”  
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Is that how you see me? Barefoot and pregnant?”  
Mitch shifted his head so he could press a kiss to her abdomen. “Now you're just being a tease.”  
She laughed, softly, stroking his head as he nuzzled against her skin. “Do you want to be a father again?” she asked.  
“I hadn't really thought about it, but now you mention it, I've been thinking of nothing else since I kissed you.” His wandering hands held her close, his lips tracing a burning path up her torso to under her breasts, his hands pushing up her top to expose them. Jamie stroked his hair and leant down so he could take one in his mouth and suckle. The pull on her breast sent fire down her limbs and flames of desire coiling low in her belly, his mouth plundering first one, then the other while her legs started to tremble from the sensation. He mumbled something against the flesh of her breast.   
“What?”  
“I said, shut the bedroom door. Speak up now if you don't want this to go further, but if you do, then...” he ran out of words. Jamie pulled back and turned to slid the door closed, then lifted her arms, her back to him, and peeled her top off over her head. Still with her back to him, she pushed her soft, pajama bottoms down, leaving her naked.  
“Oh, God. Please turn around,” Mitch croaked, his mouth dry at the beauty revealed to him. Jamie turned around and stood with her hands at her sides, loose and relaxed, her breasts rising and falling with her breathing. Mitch let his eyes drink her in, speechless at her trust in him. “You are just so fuckin' beautiful,” he breathed, taking a moment to stand up and undo his jeans. Jamie helped by lifting his t-shirt over his head until he stood as naked as she. His desire for her was plain on his face while his body echoed the sentiment, standing eagerly to attention from the coarse hair surrounding it. He reached down and cupped her face, kissing her slowly, languidly, savoring the moment, her hands coming up to stroke over his chest, through the pelt of hair covering his torso before arrowing down to his sex. She felt a slight tremble in his hands and pressed closer, wrapping her arms around him, her hands splayed over the smooth skin on his back.   
“Lay down,” she whispered when they broke for air. Mitch did as she asked, taking off his glasses once he was at the top of the bed, putting them on their shelf. Jamie had followed him and now straddled his thighs, watching him dispose of his glasses, then getting up on her knees to lean over him. She dipped her head and sucked on one of his flat nipples, bringing it erect with a blow of cool air, then a nibble between her teeth. Mitch held his hands relaxed on her hips, letting her take her time and set the pace. She lifted her head and stared down into his face, drawing a finger over his lips, tracing their shape even as he tried to capture it with his teeth, making a game of it.   
“I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, about this,” she told him, moving her lower body forward to where it sat over his groin, the hard length of him captured against her most intimate parts, between her thighs. Mitch groaned at the molten contact and tried to touch her but she grabbed his wrists and bore them down onto the pillows either side of his head. This stretched her forward and brought her breasts over his mouth, Mitch reaching up to engulf one in his mouth and suckle hard, making her throw her head back and moan, her lower body grinding against him, moisture pooling between her legs and coating his cock. Jamie gasped and writhed, pulling back and sitting up, bracing herself against the hard muscle of his chest. She lifted herself up on her knees.  
“In me. Now,” she commanded, waiting for Mitch to position himself at the entrance to her body, then she engulfed his flesh, pushing down in a slick move until they were intimately joined. Mitch looked down his body to where she sat, her reddish curls meshed with his dark thatch, his cock encased to the root. Then she moved and he groaned, watching her rise up, his slippery flesh visible for a second before she slammed down, twisting her hips and leaning forward to grind her clitoris against his pubic bone, sending shivers up his spine and making him gasp. She rode him wildly, throwing her head back and sliding her pelvis back and forth, squeezing him inside her as well as pleasuring herself.  
Mitch watched her through half closed eyes, his heart hammering, his body reacting to her breathy grunts and writhing motions by sending all his blood south, filling her perfect cunt with every stroke. He had thought her perfect on the outside, loving her individual parts as well as the whole, but feeling himself sink into her body so deep, he felt on the cusp of something profound. He was floating on a sexual high when she made another demand.   
“I need more. Give me more, Mitch!”  
Surging upright, Mitch wrapped her in his arms and captured her mouth, still intimately joined below. When her arms wrapped around his neck, he lifted them both and twisted, Jamie now on her back, her thighs spread wide as he thrust against her, his own legs spread, buttocks and thighs flexing.  
“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he told her, resting on his elbows and gazing down at her as his hips flexed, driving himself into her body before pulling out and repeating the move, meshing them together, Jamie wrapping her slender legs around him, urging him on. She was so tight and liquid at the same time, he never wanted to stop fucking her, her internal muscles fluttering around him, driving him higher, deeper, the sounds from her open mouth sending sparks down his spine and sweat pooling on his back. His breathing became uneven, his throat emitting grunts with each thrust, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and pull him down, his head resting forehead to forehead with hers, his hands bracketing her head.   
She suddenly gripped him with her thighs, heels digging in, her body shaking and her internal muscle squeezing him unmercifully. He slowed his movements, sliding out of her in a long stroke, then re-seating himself and pausing while she came down from her orgasm, her eyes eventually opening to look up at him, a delicate blush coloring her face, throat, and shoulders. He smoothed her hair back from her face, smiling lopsidedly down at her. His fingers toyed with a curl of her silky hair, winding it around his fingers then letting is loose to drop back onto the pillow. While he played, his hips were moving again, keeping his turgid erection firmly seated with small movements, but not working her slick flesh too hard in case she was tender. When she flexed her pelvis to meet his down stroke, he moved more quickly, building towards his peak in a few strokes, his back arching for the final thrust, pulsing his essence into her depths.  
They lay together, still joined, Mitch held in the cradle of her legs, her arms around his shoulders, fingers smoothing over his moist flesh, drawing patterns against his skin. Feeling almost light-headed with the force of his climax, Mitch moved to the side, slipping out of her body on a groan. He pulled her with him so she draped over his chest, hot breath against his shoulder, her hair a perfumed, silken cloud against his face. His lungs were still working hard to oxygenate his blood, his heart pumping overtime, but gradually slowing as the sweat dried on his skin. His ears started to register sounds from outside, the level of noise coming as a surprise given he'd heard nothing in the past half an hour but the siren song of mutually satisfactory sex between consenting adults, the noises Jamie produced during her orgasm an instant aphrodisiac, sounds he wanted to hear again, and again. As if reading his mind, the object of his lustful thoughts stirred and cuddled closer, her lips pressing wet kisses against his skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.   
“That was rather spectacular,” she murmured, twisting her head to look up at him. He smiled but kept his eyes shut.   
“You were fucking wonderful. Where did you learn that hip twisting thing? God, it felt so good.” He pressed a kiss to her head, sniffing her hair. “And you smell so damn good too, I could get addicted to that or maybe I should find a way to bottle it.”   
“I think you're pretty terrific too,” she laughed. “I like a man who can take direction and knows how to use his equipment.”  
“Yes, ma'am.” he murmured, grinning.  
“Do you think Clem will be too upset if we keep doing this?” she asked.  
“If we don't keep doing this I know I'll cry for sure,” he shot back, Jamie giggling.  
“It was rather a surprise. I wasn't expecting to have the best sex of my life today, or any day.”  
“Way to stroke my ego,” Mitch quipped. “Best sex, huh? You realize you've set a benchmark.”  
“Well, I feel if you're going to do something, go all in or go home. Plus you make it easy...”  
“I do? How?”  
“Every time you looked at me I felt as if my clothes were transparent and you could see everything.”  
“I did? Wow. Wish I had that ability, I'd never stop staring at you.” He grinned when she snickered against his side.   
“I thought I was being a crazy woman, wanting to touch you so inappropriately, and yet we'd only met a couple of days ago. Can it work like that?” she asked, her finger drawing circles around his nipple, swirling his chest hair into peaks.  
“I think we just proved it can. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep my hands to myself, knowing what a delicious body is under your clothes.”  
She suddenly tapped her finger against his chest. “You didn't answer my question about Clem.”  
“Sorry, got distracted. Clem was more worried that you would be insulted and not want to stay with us. I think we've established that's not the case, so once that is made plain to her, she'll be fine.”  
Jamie chewed her lip, frowning. “What if this...us...if just an aberration, a one-time thing?”  
Mitch did her the courtesy of actually thinking about her question before answering.   
“I know we've only been together for a few days, but Clem knew you were a good thing, liked you from the start and noticed that I liked you more than I have any woman I've met since all this crazy stuff started. I trust her to see things more clearly than I do, sometimes, and in this I know she's right. We're good together, the sex is fantastic, my daughter is already your champion....um, does that answer your question?”  
Jamie sighed. “You know when you do that scrunching up thing with your face, I just want to drag you off somewhere we can get naked.”  
“What...this?” he made an exaggerated expression. Jamie laughed.  
“Now you just look dorky!”  
“Dorky, huh? How dorky am I when I do this...and this...” he shifted onto his side, hands stroking up and down her body, his mouth finding a tender breast and teasing the soft nipple to hardness.   
The next few minutes were spent reclaiming territory on both sides, positioning bodies so that he could fill her moist, empty places with hot, hard flesh, rocking together and mimicking what tongues were busy doing between slick, eager lips. This time it was a slow burn, fingers finding new places to tease and excite, steady thrusts building a tension that eventually found an unhurried release laced with breathy moans and deep-throated grunts, hands gripping flesh to bring on the ultimate goal, red marks made by teeth and nails softly soothed by tender kisses and murmured endearments.   
When hearts inevitably slowed and bodies cooled, they pulled the covers up, curled around each other and slept, the day drifting into the afternoon while all around their RV the other occupants of the campgrounds busied themselves in preparation of the leave-taking planned for dawn the next day. 

A knock at the front door roused Mitch, a quick glance at his watch telling him he'd been snoozing for a couple of hours. He turned his head and gazed at his bedmate, her lips parted as she dreamed. Careful not to disturb her, he got off the bed and pulled on his jeans before leaving the bedroom, closing the sliding door behind him. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he opened the door to find a young man standing at the base of the steps. The sun was low in the sky and he squinted down at him, noting the bleach blond hair and tiny goatee on the boy's chin.   
“Yeah?”  
“I'm Logan, I'm here for the keys?”  
Mitch stared at him blankly, having no idea what he was talking about. “Keys?”  
The boy pointed to himself. “I'm driving the car?”  
Memory kicked in and Mitch nodded. “Of course, Jamie's car. Hang on, I'll get them.” Mitch turned and went to the bottom bunk, pulling out the bottom drawer and rummaging through her belongings to find the keys. Frustrated in his search, he got up and went to the door.   
“Just have to ask Jamie where she put them. Come in while I go ask.” He waved the young man into the RV. Logan took a seat at the table to wait. Mitch disappeared down the hall, barefoot and the top button of his jeans undone.   
Jamie was stirring, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around her body, her hair a cloud around her face. Mitch came and sat on the side of the bed, his lips curved up into a smile, completely entranced with her post-coital appearance.   
“Hey, beautiful.” He leaned forward to kiss her, Jamie doing the same so they met in the middle. She reached up to run her hand down the side of his face, her eyes sparkling.  
“Who was at the door?” she asked, combing his messy hair off his face.   
“At the door? Mitch queried, totally focused on kissing her neck.  
“You were talking to someone?”  
Mitch stopped what he was doing. “Shit. I need to find your car keys. Logan is here.”  
“Logan?”  
“He's going to be driving your car as part of the convoy.”  
Jamie gave him an arch look. “You don't think this...” she indicated the disordered bed. “Prove's I'm well enough to drive?”  
“Possibly, but I'm not prepared to take any chances. Head injuries can have delayed repercussions.”  
Jamie nodded. “Sure. Well, I think they are in my backpack, in one of the side pockets.”  
“Clem emptied your backpack into the bottom drawer, so where did she put the pack?”  
Jamie shrugged. “One of the cupboards?”  
Mitch gave her a final kiss and got up, muttering to himself. “How many places could it be?”  
He left the bedroom, leaving the door open. While he explained the delay to the young man, Jamie unwrapped herself from the sheet and pulled on her discarded night clothes. Unaware of the air of satisfaction and just fucked look about her, she sauntered into the main space of the RV, heading to the sink to get a glass of water. She saw the young man at the table but didn't really take a close look. Logan turned at the sound of soft footsteps and watched the woman walk into the room, her soft grey yoga pants molded lovingly to her legs and bottom half, hanging low on her hips. When he managed to tear his eyes from below the waist he instantly noted the unfettered breasts with their erect nipples swaying softly under the thin cloth of her sleeveless, pastel top. Gulping, he just about managed to lift his eyes to her face, noting the kiss-swollen lips and bed-mussed hair. When he looked over at Mitch who was obviously wearing nothing but his jeans, commando, it was painfully obvious what the couple had been doing when Logan knocked on their door. To Logan's eyes, Mitch looked to be far more mature than her, practically old enough to be her father if he was honest. He watched Jamie bend over the sink to fill her glass, everything she did appearing to be in slow motion, his heated gaze noting the rounded curve of her arms, the pronounced swell of her bottom, the arch of her foot as she raised herself up onto her toes. He was even inflamed by the way she swallowed the water.  
Mitch had finally found her backpack and rummaged in the pockets, producing the bunch of keys with a satisfied grunt. “Found them.” He shoved the bag in and closed the cupboard door, before turning to hand the keys over to Logan. The young man seemed to be fixated on something and Mitch realized that is was Jamie who was perfectly decently covered and simply getting a drink of water. If he went by Logan's expression, the young man had just found the personification of every wet dream within reach of his sweaty little paws. Mitch purposefully moved so his body blocked Logan's view.   
“Here you go.” He dangled the keys in the younger mans face, Logan reaching up to snatch them out of his hand, the desire to move Mitch out of his way, almost laughingly obvious in his expression of annoyance. Looking up, Logan met Mitch's eyes and the raised eyebrow. Realising he'd been caught gawking at the old guy's piece of ass, he cleared his throat and got up from the seat, coming to stand toe to toe with Mitch, finding the older man an inch or two taller than him.   
Jamie, oblivious to the testosterone in the air, turned to face the two guys, walking up to Mitch and leaning against him, her arm about his bare waist.   
“Thanks for volunteering to drive my old wreck. It looks worse than it drives, thank God, but the brakes can be a little squirrelly, it needs new brake pads as soon as we can find somewhere that has them in stock, so watch for a slight pull to the left if you brake hard. Probably needs a wheel balance too, so as long as you don't go over eighty, it won't wobble or cause the steering wheel to shake too much.”  
Logan looked down at the keys, rolling them in his hand. “It'll be fine. I've certainly driven worse.” He looked up, straight into Jamie's eyes and turned a blinding smile on her, complete with boyish dimples and flashing blue eyes with girlishly long lashes. Mitch groaned inwardly, but to her credit, Jamie didn't react at all, other than to give his waist a squeeze before she moved away with a cheery good luck for Logan and a hip-swinging sashay entirely for him. When he turned back to face Logan, he saw the young man was also staring after Jamie, admiration warring with outright lust in his expression before he was able to mask it and face Mitch.   
Mitch turned sideways to allow the young man to leave, unable to resist sending Logan off with a parting shot.   
“Forget any plans you have of tapping that. She's no longer available,” he told him, looking smug.  
Logan looked up and gave a lopsided sneer. “When she gets tired of your wrinkles and grey hair, I'll still look like this, old man. We'll see who she wants to tap then.” With a wave, Logan jumped the stairs and swaggered away, the keys tossed into the air every second step. 

Jamie was waiting for him, leaning against the door to the bedroom. “I'm no longer available?”  
Mitch shrugged and looked sheepish. “I didn't like the way he looked at you.”  
“He's a kid, Mitch. They all have that expression, it's a permanent fixture.”  
“Then he needs to learn a new one if he intends to look at you.”  
Jamie moved forward and looped her arms around his neck. “Anyone would think you were jealous of him.” She caught his eye and held his gaze. “You have no reason to be, Mitch. Any woman with an ounce of common sense would choose you over that lightweight in a heartbeat. He still thinks that looks are what a woman finds attractive about a man.”  
“They aren't?” Mitch asked, his lips twitching at the corners. Jamie shook her head.   
“Not even close.” She stretched up to kiss him, Mitch resting his hands on her hips while they nipped and suckled, sipped and kissed, taking their time. When they drew apart, Mitch cupped her face in his hand, Jamie leaning into it, humming her appreciation.  
“If you met him before you met me...would you still feel the same?”  
Jamie looked at him with her eyes half closed. “Choose you with that dorky expression, milky white butt and big feet over twinkly blue eyes, hair product and a hairless chest? Every time.”  
Mitch grinned back at her. “You looked at my butt?”  
“Practically needed sunglasses for the glare.” She lost her dreamy look when he found her ticklish spot, her squeal almost deafening him before he carried her forward to the bed, both of them falling onto the covers, laughing in between kissing and groping each other. 

“Are you two ever going to stop?” a girlish plaintive voice asked a few minutes later. Mitch and Jamie's heads popped up wearing equally surprised and sheepish expressions. Mitch moved first, sliding off the bed, glad he still had his jeans on.   
“Sorry, Clem. How's your day been?” He asked, reaching up to try and smooth his hair down from where Jamie had ruffled it. Clem was still wearing her archery gear. Mitch decided to try a different tack.  
“How did your target practice go? Did have any competition?”  
Clem eyed him suspiciously but chose to accept his olive branch. “They were impressed. I let some of them have a go, but no one was as good as me.”  
Mitch grinned. “That's because you're the best, Clem. Did you have a nice lunch with Jackson?”  
Clem came over and sat on the rumpled bed beside him, his obvious interest soothing her ruffled feathers. “It was okay. Abe was a darling and showed me his necklace of lion teeth.”  
Mitch smiled at her description of the formidable safari guide. “Did they still have bits of gum and tissue on them?” Clem pulled a face.   
“Ewww. No. They were all polished and stuff, with beads made from seed pods. He said it came from a grateful Chief when he and Jackson saved a village from a rogue lion.”  
“Wow. So not a bad day after all.”  
“It was okay. Are you and Jamie going to be together now?” She stared at her dad with a serious expression. Jamie, who had remained quiet while Mitch spoke to his daughter, now moved over and sat on the other side of Clem.  
“Only if it is okay with you, Clem. I want to stay with you and your Dad, but if it's too weird to have me sleeping with him as well, then I won't. He's your Dad, first. Nothing he and I do, or have either now or in the future changes that fact.”  
Clem appeared to think that over, lifting her eyes to meet Jamie's. “You didn't mind what he was doing when I saw you both before?”  
Jamie shook her head, ignoring the small twinge from her still sore wound. “I rather liked it.”  
Clem pulled a face. “Well, if you don't mind, then I certainly don't have any opinion about it, only to say adults are so weird. What on Earth were you both doing all afternoon?”  
Jamie looked over Clem's fair head to meet Mitch's eyes which were full of humor. “We talked, about you, about how this would work. If we wanted to take it further, if you would mind me sleeping with your dad. Just stuff.”  
Clem screwed her nose up. “You're not going to be kissing all the time, are you?”  
Mitch spoke up this time. “Probably not too much in public, not more than I kiss you, anyway.”  
Clem looked relieved. “That's good. The boys kept saying stupid stuff about Jamie, I told them to shut it, that you weren't like that.”  
Jamie looked a little alarmed but smiled warmly at the girl. “Thank you for being my champion, Clem. If anyone says anything that upsets you, just tell me or your dad and we'll sort them out, okay? It's what adult's do.”  
“You sort of champion each other?” she asked, looking for clarification. Jamie put an arm around the girl and hugged her.   
“Exactly. So just to make sure I have it all straight. You don't mind if I sleep in here with your dad, rather than out there with you?” she waited for Clem to nod. “You would prefer we didn't kiss too much in public because it's embarrassing?” Clem nodded again. “But you're not unhappy that your dad and I might do a little kissing or hand holding, stuff like there, here in the RV?”  
Clem heaved a much put-upon sigh. “I suppose so, if you absolutely must.”  
Mitch decided to add something. “How about everytime I kiss Jamie, I have to kiss you too?”  
Clem screwed up her face in an expression that was reminiscent of her dad. “No thank you. You'll probably wear your lips out. Ugh.”  
They all laughed, the talk reaching a conclusion with all parties satisfied with the outcome. Clem still her had friend, Mitch got to keep on doing wicked things with Jamie out of sight of Clem, Jamie got the same, as well as having a ready-made family and the knowledge she was wanted in all sorts of ways, was no longer alone, and with all sorts of possibilities in front of her for the future. 

When Clem left to take off her archery gear and store her bow, Mitch and Jamie held each other tightly, happy to have surmounted the first hurdle to whatever it was they had between them. It was too early to call it by its name, but they'd established a mutually irresistible sexual attraction between them, found out they were completely compatible in bed and sorted out the sleeping arrangement to everyone's satisfaction. The rest, as they say, would follow given time. 

The Airstream was tenth in the order of the convoy, a list of all the other families and people handed out to everyone. The vehicle at the front was equipped with a CB radio, which not all the RV's were. Those that did were spaced throughout the line so that news could be passed on quickly to those that didn't have radio contact. If an RV broke down, a message to the leading campervan would halt the convoy and an assessment would be made. Depending on the severity of the problem, the car could be sent to find parts if a town was nearby. No one was sent on their own or left on their own. Every campervan that set off that day had a full water tank, an empty septic tank and a commitment to the group to reach their mutually agreed destinations safe and sound. Anything else would be decided on a case by case basis.   
That morning, while it was still dark, the bunk beds behind the cab were dismantled and stored, revealing more seating – a driver and passenger seat with five-point seat belts, plus two further seats behind them, similarly appointed with belts, for passengers. All Mitch's equipment had been secured, the surfaces cleared and nothing left loose anywhere. If the RV was unfortunate enough to be involved in an accident, or worse case, rolled, there wouldn't be the usual hazards of broken crockery, glass or flying utensils to avoid or cause injuries. All the cupboards and drawers had special catches to keep them shut, even the bedding in Mitch's room was tucked tight, the pillows secured under the top cover. A roll cage had been installed in the front cab to protect the driver and the passengers as a further precaution.   
Mitch drove, Clem rode shotgun and Jamie sat behind her. She had thought to sit behind Mitch, but from her seat behind Clem, he only had to turn his head to the side to see Jamie, and she could rest her eyes on his profile for as long as she wanted. While Mitch waited for his turn to move forward and slot into their space on the convoy, Jamie mused on the previous twelve hours since they'd had their talk with Clem. 

Jamie had taken a quick shower, then Clem had helped her move her stuff into the bedroom, taking over one of the wide drawers under the bed for her use. Mitch had left them to get on with that while he packed his instrumentation away carefully, checked the samples in the fridge as well as the foodstuff and bottles were secure before setting the catch to keep it closed. When the girls were done in his bedroom, he finished getting dressed, Clem and Jamie starting on prepping for a meal. The sun was setting when they all sat around the picnic table, the top spread with a tablecloth, and enjoyed their first meal together as a nascent family. Before long, Jackson and Abe joined them, bringing with them a couple of women who they introduced as Chloe Tousignant, a charming French woman, and her friend, Dariela Marzan, the two as different as night and day in coloring and background. Chloe explained that they had met up at a refugee camp, mutually at a loss to return to their respective jobs, Chloe as part of a French Intelligence Agency seconded to the US, Dariela a former army ranger cut off from her unit based in South America. As unlikely as they looked, they had forged a friendship out of adversity and now were taking a holiday, visiting some of the major tourist spots and making their way to the west coast. To make enough room, Jamie ended up sitting on Mitch's lap, his arms about her waist, hers draped around his neck, stating unequivocally their couple status, Jackson and Abe passing a bill between them to settle a bet made only that afternoon. Clem beamed at anyone and everyone, as if she'd engineered the entire affair herself. Chloe and Dariela, having no idea of the history between the different people, looked on with curiosity. They knew that Jamie had been attacked by a hybrid in the shower block, imbuing her with a sort of celebrity status, they knew Mitch had patched people up after the strange animals had disrupted the campgrounds a few nights ago, making him a useful person to be on the right side of. They were trying to establish if Jackson and Abe were just friends traveling together, or were, in fact, a couple. Interestingly enough the guys were trying to find the same thing out about the women, Mitch and Jamie watching the byplay between the two couples with amusement.  
After the party broke up, they prepared to trial their new sleeping arrangement, Jaime preparing for bed first while Mitch settled his daughter into bed, the pair talking before Mitch kissed her goodnight, brushed his teeth, locked up the RV and switched off the lights. He then entered the bedroom, sliding the door shut behind him. Jamie sat in her night gear on the covers, her yoga pants exchanged for a simple pair of undies, paired with a matching colored singlet, waiting for him.   
As he had done every other night, he stripped down and pulled on a pair of boxers before taking off his glasses and pulling the covers back to get into bed. Unlike other nights, he had someone in the bed with him, his arms quickly filled with warm woman as they snuggled close together.   
“Happy?” Jamie asked, pressing a kiss to his skin, breathing in his clean male scent, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her cheek. She felt Mitch turn his head to kiss her head, his hand spread over her back stroking lazy circles over her top. His free hand was linked with hers where they rested on his chest. The sex between them had been wonderful and the best, but laying together, listening to the other breath was even better.   
“Very...” Mitch finally replied, squeezing her fingers laced with his. “You?”  
Jamie smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “Totally.”  
“That's good. By the way, I've been told I snore, so I apologize in advance.”  
Jamie giggled softly. “I've been told I snore too, so we'll probably cancel each other out.”  
“Maybe we should apologize to Clem instead.”  
Jamie giggled again. “No way. She snuffles in her sleep like a puppy.”  
“I knew that. It's kinda cute.”  
“Mitch? We're not rushing things are we?”  
“I prefer to look at it as saving us endless days of dancing around the issue and causing painful frustration, for me at least, wanting to do it and being thwarted, all for nothing.”  
“I suppose that is one way of looking at it. One could suggest that now that the sex is sorted out, we can work on all the other stuff instead.”  
“Other stuff?” Mitch asked, his voice low and sleepy.  
“Like finding out if our quirks will drive the other crazy, or if living in such close quarters is going to cause too much strain on what we have.”  
Mitch yawned. “I guess we'll deal with them when they happen. One day at a time, sweetheart, one day at a time.” His words tailed off on a sigh, sleep pulling him under.  
Jamie was equally tired, but stayed awake a little longer, warmed by his words and his body. She knew what she was feeling was the real thing, but afraid to voice such strong feelings when they'd known each other for such a short time. Time would tell, but she knew the difference between a crush and something else. This firmly fell into the something else, category. She hoped it wouldn't be too long before she could voice her feelings and have them reciprocated. 

“Here we go,” Mitch muttered, pulling her back to the present. The Airstream eased forward and followed the RV in front, one of the kids of the family waving to them from the back window. Clem waved back.  
“That's Beth, she did really well shooting at the target,” Clem explained, the vehicle in front swaying as it negotiated the uneven driveway leading out of the campgrounds. The owner was standing with his family by the gate, waving to the departing campervans, Mitch raising his hand in salute, Clem and Jamie waving to the people as they passed them.  
“Do you think they'll stay, once everyone is gone?” Jamie asked.  
“It's their livelihood. Plus, once the canned food is gone, meaning us, there's no draw for the predators,” Mitch explained. Clem laughed.  
“Canned food, good one, Dad!”  
The road trip to Great Falls, Montana would normally take a single vehicle, even a slower RV, about a handful of hours to reach. That first trip as a convoy ended up taking nearly half a day. Half an hour on the road and one of the convoy developed engine trouble, providing a test to how this issue was going to be handled by the loosely established group. The problem was a snapped fan belt, a temporary fix easily resolving the break, but it couldn't be expected to last any longer than it took to find a permanent replacement. None of the RV's had a suitable alternative so it was decided to send the car ahead to meet them at the nearest township and see what they could find.   
A short half hour trip down the road landed them in Livingston, the formerly large population spread out over a wide area. Logan, and his three passengers, all older men, were waiting for them at the outskirts of the town, a huge barricade set up between two building and covering the road blocking all further travel on the main road.   
The car's occupants reported what they'd found to the lead RV, who sent the news down the wire to the other's.  
“Ears on, folks. Look's like the town decided to try and keep out more than just the hybrids. Doesn't appear to be anyone manning it, and from the amount of rust it's been here awhile. It'll take too long to dismantle it, so we're going around. Any objections? Over.”  
The people from the RV behind the Airstream had sent one of their boys to listen in to the news, so he ran off to tell his parents, various comments over the radio indicated that no one objected to the new course, and they soon set off, the car in the lead again to find a way around the town, while still looking for a spare parts store or automotive workshop to rummage through. It turned out the barricaded section of the town didn't extend to the light industrial area and they found what they were looking for, the temporary fan belt quickly replaced, as well as a few extras packed away, along with everyone else taking the time to load up on spares. Despite a careful watch for any townspeople, they were not approached or saw any sign of anyone inhabiting the outer areas. Having experienced his share of local militia in his travels, Mitch advised caution in trying to make contact with the locals.   
Within an hour they were on the move again, heading via a roundabout route back to the main highway, keeping a steady speed that even the slowest of the campers could maintain, and expecting to arrive in Great Falls in a couple of hours. As an initial test of their convoy, the stopover had proved a success. If the rest of the zigzag trip to the south was as easy, they'd be sitting on the beachfront of the west coast before the end of the week.


	4. Road Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be aware that this chapter, towards the end, incorporates a rape scene. It is well signposted, so can be skipped, but note it will be referenced in the next chapter.

Their arrival at Great Falls was an anticlimax after the excitement at Livingston. Because they arrived from an easterly direction, they were stopped at an airforce checkpoint, right next to the Malmstrom airforce base, what troops they had left to call on used to vet the traffic in and out of the city. With only four ways into and out of the place, it was piss easy to set up roadblocks on each major highway. When they pulled up at the eastern roadblock those wanting to proceed, which was three of the RV's in their convoy, were taken to one side, their vehicles thoroughly searched before being waved through. Several of the airmen manning the barrier walked down the row of campervans, talking to some of the drivers. One old enough to be retired stopped to admire the Airstream.  
“That's some classic you have there, mister.”  
Mitch leaned out of the window. “Heavily modified three six five from the nineties.”  
The trooper whistled. “Parents used to have an Airstream trailer, back in the day. Took that thing everywhere. Where're you heading?”  
“West coast, eventually. Gotta head south for a bit and drop off more RV's before crossing the divide.”  
The man shook his head. “We've had rumors of weird shit happening south of Yellowstone. Also, look out for road gangs, they like to ask for a Toll on some roads. Keep the woman and kids hidden, and show as much weaponry as possible. Some are worse than others.”  
“How many in a gang?” Mitch asked.   
“Reports say anywhere from a couple to a hundred. They shift around so it's harder to trap the vermin and wipe them out. Big convoy like yours is going to look like their Christmases have all come at once.”  
“Thanks for the heads up. Our next stop is Idaho Falls.”  
“Heard they are worse around the outskirts of Salt Lake City, but as I said, they shift around a bit. Good luck.” He patted the side of the RV and walked back towards the barrier.   
Mitch cast a glance at his two passengers, both of them looking back at him with obvious concern on their faces.   
“We may need to defend ourselves at some stage, but this RV has a couple of surprises as well. You might get to practice your driving after all, Clem.”  
“Cool.” His daughter enthused, looking excited rather than frightened.  
“I'm not sure I'm going to be much use in a fight,” Jamie said, biting her lip.  
“The best thing you can do is learn how to load a gun and keep your head down. When we stop next, we'll spend some time rearranging some stuff so we're ready for whatever comes. Audra will protect us, we just have to protect her.”  
“Audra?”  
Mitch patted the steering wheel, grinning. “Clem called her the Audra two, in honor of her mother.”  
Clem suddenly bounced in her seat, reaching for the seat belt she'd undone when they stopped. “We're moving, Dad.”  
The lead RV was doing a U-turn in front of the barrier, preparing to retrace the route back as far as Armington Junction then take an alternate highway south to skirt around Yellowstone before heading to Idaho Falls. The drive was supposed to take up the rest of the day, with the possibility of stopping earlier if breakdowns or unforeseen events delayed them. But things never entirely went to plan. For now, the weather was fine, the road was dry and everyone was keen to get underway. With the convoy reformed to take up the spaces and all facing in the right direction, they set off to retravel the road they'd come north on. At the Armington Junction, they jumped south as planned on to route eighty-nine, cutting through the Lewis and Clarke national park to reach Townsend, an abandoned town on the Missouri River. There they decided to take a rest stop, switch drivers where possible, check for any tire or engine issues and generally take a break for an hour. While the kids stretched their legs, Mitch called a meeting to advise those that hadn't heard about the road gangs, arguments breaking out as to whether they should travel any further south and risk running into them. Others were concerned for their wives and children, plus the lack of real firepower.  
“Not all of us have a gun!” one man called out.   
Mitch looked around the crowd of worried travelers. “We formed this convoy to protect everyone, not just a few. If we come up against one of these road gangs, we have to decide how we're going to deal with them.”  
“Can't we take back roads to avoid them?” a woman asked.   
“We could. As it is, if we stay on the two-eight-seven, that runs parallel with interstate fifteen from Butte, without knowing where they are based, we could run smack into them.”  
“We could just do what the guy said, pay their toll and hope they let us go.”  
Mitch shook his head. “And if the toll is something you're not prepared to pay?”  
“I'm sure we can all spare something, food, petrol, money...” someone else suggested.  
Abe suddenly spoke up. “What if they ask for your wife, your girlfriend, your daughter, or son. Will you pay that toll?”  
The meeting erupted, everyone speaking at once. Mitch looked around, catching Jackson's eye, the two men shrugging as the discussion dissolved into disarray. Dariela suddenly put two fingers in her mouth and produced a piercing whistle, shutting everyone up. In the sudden silence, Chloe spoke up.   
“I'm not prepared to accept that option, even if some of you do. I think we need to come up with some sort of plan, where those that have weapons and can use them are at the forefront, with the weakest protected in the middle. Maybe we can reinforce some of the vehicles better, protect the tires so they can't be shot out, shield the windows to protect those inside, things like that.”  
The driver of the lead RV shouted for order, the rumble of voices dying away to listen.   
“What she says makes sense. While we rest up here, why don't we see what this town has to offer? Maybe there's a workshop we can use to make some of the protective armor she mentioned.”  
“I could do a quick drive around and report back, won't take long,” Logan volunteered. Others approved the idea and he went off with several of the younger men in the dusty Lexus. One of his passengers was going to make a map of the streets and pinpoint where stuff was they could possibly use.   
While they waited, the rest talked amongst themselves, the lead driver and several others taking a walk about all the vehicles, making note of those that would lend themselves best to being armoured and used for defense, while noting those that were the most poorly equipped or smallest campervans most likely to need defending or shielding by those bigger and taller. With so little traffic on the roads, they could risk driving two or three campervans abreast if necessary, forming a potential shield wall around the most vulnerable vehicles as well as providing a more formidable front to anyone thinking to stop them. If those designated to be in the front had substantial bull bars, they could even, potentially, smash through a barricade if needed. Another list was made of what weapons were available for use, and who was capable of using them.   
Mitch returned to the Airstream with Jamie and Clem in tow, planning to rest up until firmer plans were made. In his mind he was already forming a Roman-inspired turtle formation with the vehicles available, positioning the twenty-two vehicles and one car, according to their strengths and weaknesses. Once inside the Airstream, he sat down at his empty workbench and pulled down an unused notebook from the shelf above, withdrawing a pen from a small drawer below the bench. While Clem boiled some water on the gas stove, he worked out his idea of creating an armored formation to get them through, hopefully, whatever they had to face. The car would be useful as a scout, not going too far ahead, but enough to warn of any barricades or obstructions across the road, giving them time to form up and prepare. Depending on what they were to face, they could create a phalanx of three columns of vehicles, the front heavily armored, the sides only armored on the outward facing wall, while the last row would be heavily protected at the side and rear. In the middle column, they could have the most vulnerable, particularly the women and children in the smaller, lighter campervans. Mitch scribbled his ideas down as fast as he thought of them, his daughter and lover leaving him to work, making sure he had something to drink and eat on the side. When he was finished, he rushed out of the RV to show it to Allan, the lead driver and nominated foreman of the travelers, as well as Jackson and Abe, to get their input. When they combined the survey of the vehicles with Mitch's designs and ideas, it was easy to see what had to be done. Logan returned with plenty of news, the record taker giving a detailed report on what the settlement of Townsend had to offer.   
When everything had been discussed, the night was drawing in and it was decided to hunker down in the center of town, Broadway Street, testing the formation that Mitch had proposed, then spend the next day putting the plans for armoring and shielding the vehicles into action. It would add another day to the trip, but it was considered worth it if the worse came to pass. Each RV was given a number and position and in short order they formed up, nose to tail in three columns of seven down the main street of the town, the front three were angled into the center one, face forward, like the tip of an arrow, while the back three echoed that in reverse. Because the middle column was made up of the smaller and shorter campervans, there was space for the spare RV, with only the car left outside the metal wall. As the afternoon dissolved into the evening, people huddled around foldout tables and drew up designs for attaching wheel covers and window screens, also extra shielding for the outer 'skin' of the formation to protect exposed petrol and water tanks from being shot up. Teams were formed with at least one person who knew about metal working or welding or had some workshop skills including riveting. When everything was in place to start early the next morning, the occupants all separated to their individual RV's. Some gravitated to meet up in one RV. Clem opened the door to let Jackson and Abe come inside, followed closely by Chloe and Dariela. Having that many adults in the airstream was a bit cramped, but they made do. The two women had one of the smaller, lighter campervans, not much more than an oversized delivery van. They had never really intended to do much more than drive to the west coast with a pit stop at Yellowstone. Now they were being stretched for resources. Jackson and Abe were better prepared with their RV, it being on a par in size with the one they were sitting in, already nominated to be one of those at the front. In the morning the campers would start to strip Townsend of essential items.   
“Clem, you know what I need. If there's a pharmacy or medical center, get everything you can lay your hands on. If we get into a battle, there's going to be casualties.”  
His daughter nodded but also had her own opinion to voice. “I was thinking. I think Jamie should drive and I'll do the loading. I've had more experience, you have to admit.”  
Mitch regarded her earnest expression, then looked over at Jamie, who sent him a supportive smile.   
“Okay, that sounds sensible.”  
“I'll be riding with the safari boys,” Dariela announced, smirking at Abe's expression on hearing her nickname for them. “I trained for this shit, so makes sense for me to be on the front line.”  
“I agree,” said Mitch. “Tomorrow is going to be pretty chaotic, but if everyone concentrates on finding what they can on this list, we'll be set up pretty sweet.” He handed out several sheets of provisions he thought essential. Guns and ammunition, medical supplies, if they were really lucky the town would have an army surplus depot.  
“You want us to get helmets and vests?” Chloe asked, staring at the list. “Isn't that a bit much?”  
“All the drivers will be largely unprotected. We can put up mesh screens on the side windows to deflect bullets, but they have to be able to see, so the windscreen is vulnerable. Basic body armor will at least ensure some protection from stray shots. We don't know what sort of weaponry we may be facing, it could just be handguns and bad breath, or it could be a tank plus rocket launchers, depends on how keen these road gangs are to get what we have.” Mitch stared at the group, judging their determination by their expressions. “I know this all seems over the top for what might just be a couple of bikers with nothing more than cracked leathers and a water pistol, but I've seen enough to think I want to have the maximum protection for what I hold dear to me.” He looked at his daughter and Jamie, giving them both a lingering smile before turning back to meet the eyes of the others. “Call me paranoid, but I prefer to prepare for the worst and be disappointed, than hope they aren't as bad as they're painted.”  
Everyone agreed with him, having had their own share of close calls in the years since the animals rose up. Now they had to potentially face the worst of the animal kingdom – greedy outlaws.

Jamie waited up for him, listening to the murmur of voices beyond the walls of the Airstream as he talked further to the Safari Boys, as Dariela called them. She rather thought Abe was tickled to be having such a moniker, Jackson warming to the nickname as well. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she reached up to feel the sore spot on her head, the feathering stitches like bristles among her own hair, the area around them still tender to the touch.   
“Don't you pull those stitches out, they're still doing their job.” Mitch's voice made her jump.  
“I thought you were still outside.”  
“Everything's been said that was needed. Tomorrow will be busy, so we wrapped it up to get an early night.” As per the previous night, Mitch simply stripped down to his skin then pulled on a pair of boxers to sleep in, climbing into bed, letting out a sigh at getting horizontal and stretching out. Jamie watched it all with a glint in her eye.   
“What?” Mitch asked, looking up at her, his glasses still in place.  
“You're a natural, born leader, Mitch. It looks good on you.”   
He made a rude noise. “Nothing that anyone else couldn't do. Just takes common sense and a bit of planning. I'm just glad we don't have to face these road gangs on our own. A lone RV would be easy pickings.”  
“True,” Jamie agreed. “But are you really going to be able to organize all these people into becoming this hedgehog you described?”  
“Turtle,” he corrected. “If they go by the numbers and don't panic, we should muddle through. It's up to whether they trust the leaders at the front and follow them regardless, that's the hard part.”  
Jamie lay down under the covers and snuggled up against him. “I'm amazed they seem to be agreeing with everything suggested so far.”  
“Yeah. Well. What with the threat from these weird animals, and now the road gangs, I think most of them are a little overwhelmed and happy to leave the decision making to a few.”  
They lay there in the semi-dark, contemplating the day's events. “I wonder why the local police haven't managed to get these road gangs under control,” Jamie mused. “They were there at Yellowstone, so they must have heard about them.  
“Probably all comes down to numbers. The police and state troopers are stretched pretty thin. I mean, look at us here. We have the run of the town, tomorrow we strip it of what we need, and then move on, no consequences, no police to stop it. Only by the thinnest argument of moral judgment can you put us on the side of the good guys over the perceived bad guys. If the police force and judiciary were anywhere near back to normal we would be judged as guilty as them.”  
“I suppose. Is it so wrong to want to protect what you have?”  
“Not at all. While these road gangs can get away with holding up peaceful travelers, we have the right to defend ourselves and do whatever is necessary to protect what we have. Like us, a lot of these folk have everything they own tied up in their vehicles.”  
“So it equates to someone breaking into your house,” Jamie said.  
“Exactly. Unusual times demand unusual solutions.”  
They lay there quietly, enjoying the closeness and warmth.   
“You've had to deal with something like this before, haven't you?” she asked. Mitch turned to look down into her face.   
“Yeah. It didn't have a happy outcome.” He lifted off his glasses and reached up to set them on the shelf. “It was an ugly situation and we pulled through by the skin of our teeth. After that, I did some rethinking and made modifications.”  
Jamie didn't push him to clarify, just hugged him closer, imbuing her silent support. 

The town center of Townsend was a hub of activities, the RV's parked along both sides of Broadway, each one with a team of workers implementing the necessary modifications, while teams of women and kids scoured the shops for anything useful, piling their finds on tables in the middle of the street for anyone to look over. The bright flash and snap of welding equipment moved steadily around the different vehicles, while others used riveters to hold on window mesh and gratings where it was needed. One team was exclusively employed in hanging massive bullbars on the front of the leaders, Audra Two included. They were actually modified snow plows, more like the cow-catchers on the front of old trains than the sharp blades needed for snow, but the purpose was the same. To clear any obstruction blocking their way. All the metalwork in the world would be useless if the drivers didn't know how to employ it, so they spent several hours and precious fuel using the local high school's football field, ploughing through the long grass, practising driving close together, bumper to bumper while those in the middle tried to match their speed. No one complained about the dents accumulated in the front and rear bumpers, or the scrapes down the sides of those traveling in the center. They all knew the stakes at risk, accepting that a little damage was necessary to be ready when the time came.   
By mid-afternoon all the RV's and campervans were armored in accordance with where they drove in the formation, guns and ammunition had been distributed around the outer walls and personal armor handed out to the drivers of the sixteen vehicles that formed the skin of their metal beast. Even the beat up Lexus had been transformed to look like something out of a Mad Max movie with wheel protection, radiator, and engine reinforcing, extra cover for the petrol tank and sides, grills over the windows – front and back - and additional cover for those inside. They were truly prepared for the worst that could be thrown at them. Dawn the following day was set for them to continue their journey south, the late afternoon and evening given over to celebrating their hard work with a joint party, everyone bringing something to share to the table.   
Mitch was against lighting up the center of town like the fourth of July, but he was only one voice among many that wanted and needed to burn off nervous energy in preparation for the day to come.   
Mitch conceded and they all pitched in to make it an occasion. Someone hooked up a cd player and music blared out, the disc a compilation volume of dance hits from two thousand and five, containing such gems as Don'tcha by the Pussycat Dolls, and Cool by Gwen Stefani. Mitch professed to have no rhythm at all so he and Jamie just held each other in a loose embrace on the edge of the crowd and swayed to whatever beat was playing, so wrapped up in each other they were deaf to the tempo. Clem and the other youngsters danced themselves into exhaustion, gulping down powdered juice while the adults discreetly passed around paper cups of precious liquor to add a buzz to the party. Beer wasn't an option as it hadn't kept much past the first year after production, and then only if it was kept in a fridge. Three years on and it was best to avoid it. One of the kids was having a birthday that night, and someone else, having a breadmaker, baked a fruit loaf that was then iced and stuck with candles in lieu of a cake. Everyone had a taste and pronounced it a success. Eventually, the evening wound down and tables were cleared away, children put to bed and lights switched off. The next day was still a long way off, for those that chose to view it that way. For others, it wasn't far enough. Clem was hyped up after jigging about but quickly succumbed to sleep, burning off her youthful energy providing a dreamless sleep. Mitch kissed the blond head and smiled down at his most treasured accomplishment, currently sleeping with her only remaining soft toy, a stuffed dog.  
He locked the door, brushed his teeth and started to peel off his clothes as he padded towards the bedroom. Jamie met him at the door, her clothes already discarded, her gloriously colored hair backlight by the side light, her lips tilted up in a smile of wanton anticipation as he backed her further into the room and slid the door closed behind him. Her face was partly shadowed but he still saw the clear emotion in her eyes, his heart beating faster as he acknowledged to himself that he felt the same depth of emotion. Her fingers were at his fly, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down over his hips, his boxers taken with them, leaving him naked and fully erect. Those same cool fingers closed about his cock and squeezed, making him draw in a breath on a hiss.  
“Careful, that's a loaded weapon,” he smirked, tilting his head down to cover her mouth with his own. They stood there, just in the room, his hands at his side while hers stroked him from base to tip with languid movements, adding a twist to keep it interesting. When her other hand went under and cupped his balls, he almost rose up on his tiptoes.  
“Jeez, Jamie. You're killing me...”  
She licked her lips. “I've only just started.” Giving him a final squeeze she turned around and climbed on the bed on all fours, her delightful rump on full display, then she turned around and sat back on her heels, indicating for him to move forward to the edge of the bed. His hands twitched with wanting to fondle her breasts but she pushed his hands away, pulling him forward with her hands on his hips so his cock was right in front of her. He was already leaking pearls of fluid at the tip, so she leaned down and lapped it up, savoring it for a second before starting to work her mouth over him with serious intent. Every ounce of his blood rushed to that one point of contact, his legs locking at the knees to prevent him keeling over in sheer pleasure. Those perfectly formed, kissable lips were wrapped around his cock while her tongue cradled the crown, applying pressure in all the right places. He kept his hands from holding her head, not one to take advantage, preferring to just enjoy any opportunity when a woman made love to his cock this way. His balls weren't neglected, her fingers stroking the sensitive skin between his scrotum and his anus, his legs starting to wobble in response to the stimuli.   
“Sweetheart, as much as this is driving me insane, I want to be in you....now!”  
Jamie slowly withdrew her mouth, swirling her tongue around the crown for a last taste before turning herself around and a presenting him with a mouth-watering back view, giving her bottom a little wiggle if he needed any further incentive. He didn't. Gripping her hips where her waist flared inwards, he pulled her back and impaled her on his hard flesh, both of them groaning at the contact, Jamie lowering herself onto the covers and pushing her bottom up to deepen the sensation. Mitch braced his legs wide apart and plowed into her, watching himself as he fucked her, Jamie making the noises he wanted to hear as she matched his stroke, pushing back to take him in deeper. After her wonderful love-play, he wasn't going to last long, his body arching over hers as he plunged again and again, eventually giving a final push that sank in as far as physically possible, filling her with everything he had, his own heat fogging his glasses which he only now registered he still had on. He twitched a couple of times more, then had to withdraw, the muscles down the back of his thighs complaining at the awkward position. He crawled onto the bed beside her and let his body go limp.   
“Sorry,” he panted. “I couldn't hold out, you have such a fuckable cunt.”  
Jamie leant over him and kissed his lips, moving onto her side to lay beside him. “That's okay, you lasted longer than I expected.” She gave him a saucy grin and he replied in kind.   
“Come on, can't let you miss out. Move up here and sit on me.”  
They maneuvered on the bed covers until Jamie was kneeling over his upper body, Mitch scooting down the bed until his mouth was directly between her legs. He reached up from behind and pulled her onto him until her swollen folds were right where he wanted them. Jamie fell forward as soon as he started to work her moist flesh, the sensation of his tongue going where his cock had so recently been making her shudder and moan, his lips closing over her nub and sucking while she bucked and shivered overhead. She tasted divine, his own emissions mixed with her sweet essence and he ate her out with a will, Jamie squealing when her climax inevitably crashed over her, her whole body quivering as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. Mitch lay below her and cleaned her up, kissing her tender parts and wearing a smug smile when she finally lifted one twitching leg over his body and collapsed bonelessly beside him.   
“Fuck you're good,” Jamie managed to croak, her body still giving in to little spasms of post-orgasmic joy.   
Mitch found a corner of the top sheet and wiped his mouth and chin dry, his whole lower face and neck slippery with their combined nectar. He turned his head to look at her.  
“We taste damn good together too,” he whispered, rolling to bring him close enough to press a kiss to her damp shoulder. Jamie chuckled and cracked her eyes open.   
“Figured you had an oral fixation with the way you're always sticking something in your mouth.”  
Mitch raised his eyebrows. “I do?”  
“Toothpicks, pens, pencils, glass pipettes, glass stirrers, stems of grass, the arm of your sunglasses, plastic straws....”  
“I do!” Mitch stated, given the evidence. Jamie grinned at him.   
“It's something women look for, don'tcha know. That and strong hands. Speaking for myself, of course.”  
Mitch held up his hands and twisted them back and forth, the fingers splayed wide. “Guess I must have those as well.”  
Jamie continued. “Of course, it helps if he has these melting, chocolately brown eyes that make a girl want to sink into a puddle of pure want when he turns them on her.”  
Mitch let out a guffaw. “Now I know you've been reading too many of those novels they talk about.”  
Jamie lifted her head and propped it up on her hand. “What sort of novels would those be?”  
Mitch turned to look at her again. “You know, the ones with titles like The Prince's Italian Virgin Bride or His Cowboy Wife's Sister's Bastard Baby, or some such header.”  
Jamie laughed. “Oh. You don't mean like that one they made a movie of, Fifty Shades of Godawful Soft Porn for the Modern Working Woman?”  
“Yeah. Those sorts of novels. What were we talking about again?”  
Jamie shrugged one shoulder. “No idea. You started it.”  
“Pretty sure you started it, but what the fuck, I'm finishing it.” He rolled off the bed and padded, in the dark, to the toilet, then washed his hands and face and returned. Jamie was already waiting for him, the bed once more in a state of tidiness, his side folded back. He pulled up his discarded boxers and climbed under the covers, switching off the side light.   
“Awww you washed me off,” she laughed giving him a kiss in the dark.   
“No offense, sweetheart, but if I have to get up in the night for anything, I don't what anyone picking up the scent of pussy on me. I keep that particular delight just for me.”  
He lifted his arm and she settled in against his side, still smiling.   
“You do say the sweetest things. Can I keep you?” she whispered. Mitch chuckled.   
“For as long as you want.” He yawned. “Forever is on offer if you're interested.” Within seconds he was out for the count, Jamie left to ponder his parting shot, pressing her lips to his warm skin and wondering how she managed to chance on the perfect man for her.

The convoy was trundling down the highway at a steady pace, the noise of their passing greatly increased by the number of new attachments and the added weight. Logan and his lookouts were somewhere ahead, over the brow of a long hill. Mitch was currently driving, his passengers in their usual seats. The Audra Two was the middle front RV of their three column arrangement, the point of the arrow if they had to bust through a barricade. The sun glinted and flashed of the polished metal skin of the Airstream, further enhancing the effect of it being the point of a mobile weapon. The front windscreen was partially obscured by metal louvers that technically could divert an oncoming bullet, but it had yet to be tested. They had been traveling for two hours with no sign yet of any problems with the road, Clem was in the passenger seat training a pair of high powered binoculars on the hills and high points looking for any sign of lookouts, the flash of sun on metal or glass, anything that might indicate trouble ahead. They were going to be leaving the two eighty-seven to take a more southerly route up ahead onto highway eighty-seven that would run into highway twenty, skirting Yellowstone and heading southwest directly to Idaho Falls. So far, after crossing the Missouri river at Toston, they had been tracing a route through deep, fertile river valleys, following offshoot waterways from a network of lakes hidden among the folded hills.   
“I can see the car. Logan is gunning it,” Clem reported, a second before the CB radio squawked into life, one of Logan's passengers getting on the frequency.   
“Scout to Leader, come in Leader, over.”   
Mitch ignored the call sign, waiting for Allan, the designated foreman, to answer.  
“This is Leader One, what's the word, Scout? Over.”  
“Bad guys and barricade approximately five miles ahead down the eighty-seven. Over.”  
Mitch cursed under his breath. The radio crackled then Allan spoke again.  
“Head on back, Scout, and hand in your report. Over.”  
“Will do, Leader. Scout out.”  
They were approaching the turn-off, the vehicles slowing right down to take the corner, the RV's leaving some space between the one in front as they negotiated the right-hand curve. Back on the straight, they slowed to a halt, waiting for Logan and his team to arrive and fill them in on the details. The Lexus rolled up and drew level with the lead RV's, the young men inside piling out to pass on their news.   
A representative from each of the twenty-two campervans collected in front of the lead vehicles.  
When everyone had arrived, Allan motioned for Logan to begin his report.   
“About five miles ahead the road passes through a narrow pass next to the Black Mountain, just before you get to the lake. We saw the barricade some distance back. Aaron counted fifteen manning the gate blocking off the highway, plus there were a number of vehicles blocking off anyone going around the ends, across the rough ground. Nothing heavily armored that we could see, and mostly hand weapons with some automatics. But only a few that were obvious.”  
“They probably justify the barricade as a border crossing from Montana into Idaho.” One of the reps commented. “It's a natural bottleneck for anyone traveling the road.”  
Allan looked over at the man. “You know this area well?”  
He nodded. “Grew up around here, used to boat on Henry's lake. This road gang is probably based around the lake. There's a number of small settlement and towns to supply them with anything they could want. This route might be off the main interstate, but it's not untravelled by those that know what's here.”  
“What is here?” someone else asked.   
“Good fishing, for starters. Plenty of game and a fresh water source. There's ready access to timber and plenty of really nice holiday homes all over this area. If you wanted to hide, this is as good a place as any with hills, valleys, and folds that could hide an army and none the wiser.”  
“So we can assume this road gang is well provisioned, possibly inhabiting some of the houses and settlements further along this road. They probably have radio communications, just like us and a backup force if anyone does get through,” Mitch summed up.  
“Pretty much. Did they see you, Logan?” Allan asked. Logan shrugged.   
“I don't think so. We had a clear view down the valley from some distance away. It's possible they saw us, but they could just think we've run away to take another way around them. They aren't going to know about the convoy.”  
“Maybe, maybe not,” Abe spoke up. “They will be aware of the blind spot in their trap, and likely have a lookout on a high ridge to give them a view back as far as the turn-off. They aren't going to want to miss out on any chance to charge their toll by having their prey escape.”  
“What are you thinking?” Allan asked.  
“I'm thinking that they would want to shut the door after the prey has entered the trap.”  
“Want me to go check?” Logan offered. Mitch exchanged a glance with Abe.   
“We've passed through any number of abandoned farming communities in those river valleys before the junction. Anyone one of those could easily shut off a retreat,” Mitch suggested.   
Allan turned to the scouts. “Go take a quick look, but don't get too close if they have shut the back door. Get in and get back as soon as you can to confirm that's what's happened.”  
“Will do, boss. Come on boys!” Logan and his scouts whooped and ran to the Lexus, jumping in and driving the car around the convoy to head back the way they'd come. The meeting broke up to return to their respective vehicles to await the call from the Lexus. Mitch was just getting Jamie into her gear to take over the driving when the radio speaker crackled.   
“Scout to Leader, come in Leader, over.”  
“Leader here, Scout. What's the verdict? Over.”  
“Backdoor locked and bolted, over.”  
“Return to base, Scout. Over.”  
“Will do. Over and out.”  
Jamie looked at Mitch. “Sounds like we're going to get to test your Roman snail after all.”  
Mitch gave her a look, knowing she was using the wrong term deliberately. “Turtle.” He groused, his lips twitching into a smile. Jamie grinned back at him, eyes twinkling. He lifted up the helmet, sitting in on her head and tightening the strapping. She already wore a heavily padded vest to protect her from neck to groin, her arms wearing separate sleeves made out of a Kevlar alternative. She had leather gloves on her hands to avoid her fingers slipping on the steering wheel due to sweat. Finally, she was belted in with the five-point webbing, her leg brushing up against the thick steel panel on the inside of the driver's door to make it bulletproof to a high caliber.  
Clem was similarly dressed, but her arms were free so she could reload the guns her father would use to fire from the roof of the RV. On the roof, among the bicycles frames, spare wheels, inflatable boat hull and solar panels was a padded steel box big enough to shelter a prone sniper. It was near to the front of the vehicle, over the driver's cab, giving the shooter a clear field of fire to pick off targets. Mitch would be up there being handed reloaded weapons as fast as Clem could load them.   
The Lexus skidded dramatically to a halt in front, Allan walking up to the driver's side to get confirmation of what the scouts had seen. Shortly after, the Lexus was driven away to its place at the back of the convoy. The CB crackled into life and Allan spoke over the airways.   
“Leader to everyone. We will make our way towards the barricade. Watch your speed and following distances. Don't allow a gap of more than a few feet from nose to tail. We've practiced this so keep a cool head and follow the vehicle in front. Non-combatants get to your safe place and don't move from it until given the all clear. Drivers stay icy and listen to the radio. Let's move out.”

Jamie stared through the windscreen at the long, straight stretch of road culminating in a toll-gate at the bottom. As the convoy had trundled along, jockeying and sorting out its spacing and speed, the CB radio had been alive with chatter about what to do when they reached the barricade, now they were in sight of it, then the chatter was shut down. Jamie heard Mitch's voice in her ear and concentrated on that. He was looking through the binoculars from his elevated position at the gate, trying to gauge how difficult it would be to get all the RV's through in their current formation. Although she could hear him through the headset, she couldn't speak to him, that function reserved to the two other drivers in the lead RV's, Allan – the foreman, on the right, and Eric on the left. Both had the same headset and could hear Mitch and respond to him. They figured the road gang would also have a CB so they needed an alternative way to communicate, hence the headsets.   
“Well, boys, we have a situation up ahead. The barrier is made of corrugated metal, about eight feet high, braced with pipework. Looks like it slides back rather than on hinges, so it should be easy enough to punch through with a few scrapes. The rest is made up of rusted RV's and assorted campervans, probably past victims of their tolls. The gate spans the road so width won't be a problem....hold up. They're sending someone to parlay. Bring it to a halt.”  
The message was relayed through the CB and the convoy slowed down, still several hundred feet from the barrier itself but now in clear view. Two men on a motorcycle appeared through the gate itself, a gap made just wide enough for them before being closed again. Belching smoke the Harley roared up the hill towards them, a white flag fluttering off a flexible pole held by the passenger.   
It skidded to a halt a little ways ahead of the convoy, close enough to see and assess the cow-catchers on the front of the leaders.  
Allan approached the motorcycle, his earpiece still in so that Mitch and Eric, plus Jamie could hear the conversation. Allan's son backed him up, staying a few feet back, a rifle plainly visible in his grip. The gang member on the bike stayed where he was, although he did turn the bike off. Allan halted six feet from the bike and waited.   
Slowly, making no sudden moves, the passenger holding the white flag eased himself off the pillion and approached Allan.  
“That's a lot of metal you have with you,” the biker commented. “How many vehicles you got there?”  
“What do you want?” Allan asked, not interested in small talk.  
“Well, now. You can see we have a little toll gate we like to use to keep track on who's coming and going through our part of the country.”  
“If it's a toll gate, what do you ask for payment?”  
The biker eyed up Allan, then looked over at the three RV's that he could see. “That all depends on what is on offer. We take cash, coin, gold, silver, jewelry, whatever you've got.”  
“And if we paid you'd let us through?” Allan asked, testing the waters.  
“We'd still have to inspect each vehicle, maybe siphon some fuel, take a portion of supplies, stuff like that.”  
“Yeah. Figured you'd be greedy. We're not interested in paying your toll.”  
The man looked at Allan, his face going from a smirk of self-confidence to a sneer of disdain. “Your choice, but we don't take kindly to people who don't pay the toll. They usually end up dead! And we take what we want anyhow.” The man was back to smirking, sure that Allan would back down with a show of force. Allan took a step forward, into the man's personal space.   
“Open the gate and let us through, no toll, no payment and you might get to keep your sweet ride.”  
The man gaped at the foreman, his face forming into a scowl. “Fuck you, dick head!” He turned away to get back on the bike, Allan doing the same and marching back to his RV. The biker, his passenger back onboard, fired up the Harley and swung it around leaving a black tire mark behind then roared off back to their road gang, white pennant still fluttering.  
Jamie felt a roil of nerves in her stomach, her fingers gripping the steering wheel like a vice. The CB spluttered into life and Allan spoke.  
“This is it. Keep your spacing tight and speed steady. Don't have to go fast to break through, we just don't want to stop. Once through, keep going, don't stop even if you get a flat tire just keep your speed and spacing. Shooters, pick your targets and make each bullet count. Good luck.” The radio cut off. As this point, Jamie led off, the other two lead RV's keeping pace, just a fraction behind her. Mitch was once more speaking into her ear, his voice low and helping to soothe her nerves. The plan was to reach a speed of forty miles an hour, punch through and keep going. Simple. Jamie watched the speedo, seeing it climb as the RV's rolled onwards, the barrier coming closer with every second. The sound of the first shot made her jump, but she kept the Airstream on the center line, quickly reaching the optimum speed, not taking her eyes off the barrier ahead. Mitch was firing from the roof, taking out the shooters lining up in front of the metal gate, the men quickly scattering when they realized the oncoming RV's weren't just tin cans on wheels but were armed and deadly. The other two lead vehicles were also firing, their passengers taking potshots from their side windows, the bullets sending up sparks where they hit the barrier, sending the people manning it ducking for cover. A brave defender stood up to spray the front of the lead vehicles with his automatic rifle, but Mitch quickly took care of him and the damage to the leaders was minimal.   
“Brace yourself, but don't let go of the wheel!” Mitch extolled her just before she hit the corrugated metal, the sharp front on the Airstream taking the impact and sheering through the metal sheet like a knife, the metal bracing poles flying off to the side and over the top of the RV's. Jamie had a brief glimpse of surprised faces as they thundered through, her palm hitting the horn and sounding it, the others taking it up until the entire convoy was roaring its way through the road gang's toll gate, flattening it completely and scattering the remaining gang members, each of the RV's firing as they passed, keeping the defenders low to avoid the barrage of bullets. Some return fire pinged off the campervans, but few did any damage, and no one was hurt, the Lexus being the last vehicle, and sporting shooters out every window, covered their retreat and leaving the road gang in disarray and their barricade ruined.  
Not resting on their laurels, the vehicles kept going, barreling down the road at a slower speed but still in formation. If the theory about the settlements around the lake were true, they might still meet some resistance, the Turtle keeping them following, nose to tail, for several miles, around the edge of Henry's Lake and on past. Any vehicles they encountered were forced to pull over and let them through, a few people, obviously alerted by radio to their arrival, standing outside their houses and on the side of the road to watch them pass, none of them trying to take pot shots or stop them.   
Eventually, they reached the Henry's Lake airport where the eighty-seven reached a t-junction and they had to turn right onto the ID twenty to head southwest to Idaho Falls, which was now only an hour or so away. Taking the corner, they allowed the RV's to space themselves further, the convoy stringing out for several hundred feet along the highway, still three abreast, but no longer the tight formation of before. Logan and the Lexus sped ahead, whooping as they passed the leaders. The convoy wouldn't stop now until they reached Idaho Falls, the CB chatter indicating there were no problems, no damaged vehicles and everyone intact and uninjured. The same could not be said for the carnage they left behind them. 

Mitch shimmied through the roof hatch and lowered himself into the passenger seat, handing over his sniper rifle for Clem to take care of. Jamie had already taken off her helmet, her hair sticking to her sweaty face. Mitch took off his as well, running his hand through his hair to lift it off his damp scalp. They both removed the earpieces and handed them to Clem to pack up.   
“You okay?” he asked. Jamie grinned at him.  
“I think I'm getting the hang of it. Just getting a bit hot with all this gear on.”  
Mitch leaned over to help remove one of the arm protectors, then the other, Jamie already feeling the benefit. Clem had stowed the guns in the locker, still needing to be cleaned, but that could wait until they were stopped for the night. Her father turned in his seat.  
“You did well with the loading. I didn't take a head count...”  
“Six, Dad. You got six confirmed hits, no kills,” Clem told him.  
“From the top of a moving bus? Not bad!” Father and daughter exchanged a high-five.  
Jamie looked over at the pair. “Not the first rodeo for you two?”  
“Unfortunately not. Last time we were stationary and surrounded by wolves and mountain lions that wouldn't take no for an answer. I hated having to shoot them, they were beautiful creatures, so I limited the kill shots to the alphas and that was sufficient to scare them off long enough for us to get out of there,” Mitch explained. Clem was behind his chair taking off her vest, her helmet sitting on the table with the others. Jamie spotted a distance marker on the outskirts of Chester, the mountains a long way behind them now. The highway split into two, one side now a two-lane freeway heading south, the other side narrowing down to a single lane going north.   
“Only forty-five miles to the Falls.”  
“Guess we'd better go back to looking like a normal convoy again.” He picked up the CB handset. “Hey people, we'll be coming up on Idaho Falls in a few, so time to go back to single file. Make like a zip, everyone.”  
Jamie took her foot off the gas and eased in behind Eric's RV who was behind Allan's, the vehicles behind doing the same maneuver down the line, eventually becoming a single file of twenty-two campers, some with a little heavier bodywork than usual, but all looking forward to a rest stop after all the excitement.  
“Think we should give it a name?” Jamie asked. Mitch looked over at her.   
“The rout of the road gang?” he suggested. Clem snorted.   
“The battle of Black Mountain sounds better,” she offered, Jamie agreeing with her. After a moment Mitch shrugged and said it was the best, although to be exact, there hadn't been much of a battle, more of a breaking through and running over.   
“Sounds like the best sort of battle to me,” said Jamie. “Only the bad guys got hurt, payback for all the travelers they've robbed before us.”  
“We'll alert the authorities to their scheme and hopefully their days as a road gang are numbered,” Mitch told them, everyone agreeing that was the best outcome.

Idaho Falls city straddled the Snake River, those going to stay put there directing the convoy to an RV park bordered by a canal, leaving a green space beside the river, right next to the bridge. The park owner was gobsmacked to see so many vehicles turn up at once, the park only just able to fit them all in at a pinch. The three that were staying in the area made their farewells and left, leaving twenty RV's and a Lexus to be accommodated.   
Mitch had jumped out at the office, leaving Jamie to be directed to their site. He was going to get onto the local authorities and fill them in on the road gang, then he'd join them later. Clem had the routine of connecting and setting up the camper down pat and was happy to show Jamie some of the essential services needing to be hooked up, as well as how to empty the waste water tank and access the smaller septic tank when it indicated it needed emptying. The twenty RV's were parked in the same area, so after Clem was satisfied she'd done all that was needed, she took off to go visit with her friends, leaving Jamie alone to potter inside the Airstream. She needed a shower and ducked into the cubicle, forgetting to lock the door of the camper behind Clem. Not intending to take long, she shampooed and soaped up with the minimum of fuss, humming to herself under the warm water. Five minutes or so later she was shutting off the water and folding her hair up into a towel like a turban, wrapping another around her torso before pushing the door back and stepping out onto the mat to dry her feet. Thinking herself alone, she bent over to unwind the towel on her head and rub at the wet strands, her towel around her body riding up the back of her legs. A low whistle of appreciation came from behind her and she straightened up, thinking it Mitch, turning around with a smile on her face that quickly died.  
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” The wet towel she'd been using on her hair dropped to the floor, her fingers clutching at the one around her torso to hold it in place.   
“Enjoying the view, for starters. We thought we'd come and see if you were up for some fun and games.” Logan rose to his feet, his intentions clearly stated on his handsome face. His two friends leered at her, exchanging glances between themselves before returning to stare hungrily at Jamie.   
“Get out of here. I'm not interested in anything to do with boys!” Jamie spat, taking a step back. It was her first mistake. Never retreat when faced with a predator, they will want to chase the prey.  
Logan started to advance, his cronies remaining on the cushioned seating around the table for the time being, giving their leader first bite at the goods. Jamie took her eyes off him to look around the interior of the camper, but everything was still packed away giving her nothing to use to defend herself with. She returned her gaze back to her unwanted visitor only to find him closer than before, making her take another step back. Never take your eyes off your attacker, it just lets them get close enough to attack.   
“Oh, come on, Jamie? Why play the coy virgin? We all know you're not. I bet you've had to do a lot of things in the past to keep that pretty skin unmarked and in one piece. Think of it as giving the hero of the day his just rewards!” He laughed and glanced over his shoulder at his mates. Jamie retreated further, her only choice to enter the bedroom, one hand closing over the sliding door handle in the hopes she could shut and lock it before Logan noticed.   
“Ah, ah, ah!” Logan had seen exactly what she was trying to do and stepped right up into her space, jamming his boot against the sliding door edge to keep it open. “Lock the door,” he ordered. One of his cohorts getting up to lock the outer door of the Airstream. “Now, let's see what is really on offer here...” he reached for the towel but Jamie scuttled backward, sidling around the bed until her back hit the corner of the room.   
“Don't touch me, Logan....” Jamie started to warn him, but she was cut off.   
“Or what? Your old man will shuffle his way in here and protect you? He won't be here for awhile yet, so we can take our time. Now let's get rid of that towel...” He reached for a corner of the fabric and Jamie opened her mouth to scream but he changed tactics and slammed his open hand over her mouth instead, his other hand clamping on to the back of her head, fingers digging into her wet hair right over her healing wound, and held her tight, preventing her from crying out. She struggled, clawing at his arms, leaving long scratches, his fingers moving to pinch shut her nose, cutting off her air supply. The towel dropped to the floor but she continued to struggle, kicking his legs with her bare feet, her eyes widening as she fought to draw a breath, Logan pinning her against the wall until her eyes rolled up and she slumped, starved of oxygen. He loosened his grip and picked her up, tossing her onto the bed covers where she lay, pale and limp.   
“Fuck, man, you've killed her!” one of the other boys said, coming to see what was happening, his interest in taking part waning. “You never said you were going to kill her.”  
Logan looked down at the naked woman and watched for a moment, noting her chest moving and the color returning to her face. “She's not dead, just out of it. If you don't want to have your turn, then fuck off. Find something to gag her with,” he ordered the other boy. “or else she'll scream when she wakes up and bring them all running.” A quick rummage produced a cotton scarf that Logan twisted and pushed between the unconscious woman's slack lips before tying it behind her head, effectively rendering her mute. Then he rolled her onto her back, pushing her hand out of the way to uncover her breasts, staring down at the nude body in awe.   
“She sure is beautiful,” one of the boys said, his voice hushed. Logan knelt on the bed and reached out a hand to roughly fondle one of the small breasts, pinching the nipple until it was red. Then he ran his hand down her body to the juncture of her thighs and the thatch of hair, still damp from her shower.   
“A real redhead, guys, how about that.” He lowered his head and pushed his face against the red-gold curls for a moment then chuckled, turning his head to the side. “Smells like pussy!” he joked in a sing-song voice. His hands went to his belt, undoing the buckle before unzipping his jeans.  
“You really going to do this?” the nervous boy asked, turning to look over his shoulder as if expecting someone to be there. Logan had his jeans down his thighs, his semi-erect cock already poking out of his underwear.   
“Shit yeah. She'll be glad to have a hard cock after having that old man's limp dick. Hold her arms in case she wakes up before I get her legs spread.” He shuffled back to lift one of Jamie's legs, pushing it wide then doing the same to the other, exposing his victim.   
“Hey, Logan? She's coming around, better get on with it...”   
Jamie heard the unfamiliar male voices and jerked, finding her arms pinned by hard fingers, cool air washing over her body and between her spread thighs. She tried to close her legs but someone was already between them, keeping them apart. She tried to scream but the gag muted it to barely a whimper, her legs thrashing as she tried to twist away.   
Logan gripped her upper legs hard enough to leave bruises, moving forward to bring himself close enough to penetrate, thwarted when Jamie bucked making it impossible for him to find the entrance to her body.   
“Quit fucking around, Logan. We don't have all day!” the other boy jeered, looking away from the face of the woman about to be raped, his gaze taking in the view outside the window. “Holy shit!”  
The nervous boy looked as well, seeing the trio of men making their way towards the RV they were in. None of the men looked alarmed, but that would soon change once they became aware of what was happening inside the RV.  
“Logan, we have to get out of here...” the nervous boy hissed, holding Jamie down with difficulty.   
Logan had finally managed to force his victim to be still enough to get his cock to home base, Jamie rearing back, her feet still kicking, her neck stretched taut as shrill noises issued from behind the gag. Logan wasn't small and she hadn't been prepared, the pain of the dry penetration tearing into her.   
The boys holding her arms suddenly let go, looking to open one of the side windows and make their escape. Someone was hammering at the door of the RV, voices shouting. The ruckus bringing more people, the two boys quickly apprehended.  
In the throws of his lust, Logan didn't hear anything, his grunts loud as he took his pleasure with his unwilling victim. He didn't hear the metal lock give under the repeated blows or the rushed steps and shouts of the men who entered the bedroom. Logan found himself ripped away from his victim and thrown into the corner he'd so recently bailed Jamie up against. Blows rained down on his head and shoulders, a booted foot kicking him squarely in the crown jewels, his body curling up as he howled in pain, hands going down to his groin to grip his damaged balls.   
“Mitch, Mitch stop, you're going to kill him!” Jackson tried to pull his enraged friend off the boy, Mitch aiming another kick at the bastard. “Mitch, Jamie needs you!”  
Like a bucket of chilled water, the mention of her name stopped him cold, his head lifting to stare at the bed, Abe having already thrown the covers over Jamie after removing the gag and standing guarding over her, her body curled up in a ball.  
“Get rid of that filth,” Mitch rasped harshly, Jackson standing back as his friend made his way to the other side of the bed, Abe clearing out of that side to give him space as well. Between Abe and Jackson, they removed Logan from the bedroom and carried him outside, dumping him on the ground, his trousers still around his ankles, red scratches up his arms, what he'd been doing obvious to anyone with eyes to see. Clem arrived with the other, younger kids, but Abe forestalled her going into the RV.   
“Your father is in there with Jamie, but you need to give him ..er...them a little time,” he told her. Clem stared up at him, then at Logan sitting curled up on the ground. Before anyone could move she stepped forward and kicked the young man with her booted foot, leaving a muddy imprint on the back of his t-shirt, his shout of pain ignored as everyone spoke at once, Abe lifting Clementine off the ground to stop her kicking him again.   
“He will be punished, but not by you. Come with me and we'll go see Dariela until your father says you can come back here.” Clem struggled against the beefy arm about her waist, Abe carrying her off while others picked up Logan and took him back to his parent's campervan.

Mitch crouched next to the side of the bed, his muscles still tense from beating Logan, his heart tripping in his chest as he looked at the woman curled into a ball on the bed. She lay with her eyes screwed shut, her brows pleated, lips pulled into a thin line. Suddenly remembering that the door to the campervan was wide open, he got up and shut the sliding door to the bedroom and locked it, preventing anyone walking in on them. Then he secured the window the two boys had used to escape, before returning to the bed. He swallowed and tried to blot out the image of Logan rutting between her pale legs, her arms, and feet trying to fight him off.   
“Jamie? It's just me here, I've locked the door and there's no one else in the room. He's gone, and he won't be coming back.” He paused, afraid to touch her. He tried to stroke her head but she jerked it away and hissed, as if in pain.   
“Don't. Please....hurts,” she whispered, not opening her eyes.  
“Your head?” he asked, seeing the slight nod and standing up so he could lean over and inspect the back of her head. Carefully parting her hair he checked the stitches, noting the wound was a bit red and tight, scratches from someone fingernails leaving marks on her scalp. He crouched down again.  
“It looks a bit swollen, sweetheart. We'll need to put an ice pack on it again.”  
Jamie nodded. “Not the only place that's gonna need some ice,” she added.  
Mitch felt a red haze cloud his vision, the image of Logan raping her making his fingers curl into fists until his knuckles turned white. He was so caught up in his rage he jumped when cool fingers curled around the fist resting on the bed.   
“I think I might need a stitch or two. Get this cover off me...” He marveled that she was able to speak so coherently, but quickly peeled back the bed cover, revealing her body, Jamie moving to a more upright position and easing herself back so she could lay on the pillows on her back. She groaned as abused muscles protested, her hand going to between her legs and coming back with a bloody coating on her fingers when she inspected them. “Yeah, definitely going to need something..”  
Mitch sat on the bed when she had finished getting herself comfortable, his eyes cataloging her visible injuries, the reddened breast, and bruised thighs, as well as the swollen lips from where the gag had chafed.   
“I know this is probably the last thing you want done right now, but I need to see how bad the tearing is.”  
With her eyes shut again, Jamie nodded, then relaxed her legs and spread them, drawing her knees up at the same time. Blood was liberally smeared between her thighs and all around the entrance to her body. Her folds were swollen but intact, the cut probably inside from the rough treatment and lack of preparation. Mitch pulled back from his visual inspection.   
“Good news, you won't need any stitches and he didn't ejaculate. Bad news, you're going to be very sore for a few days, probably a week.” He pushed her knees together to close her legs and Jamie folded them to the side. Mitch pulled the sheet and blankets over her, reaction setting in and making her shiver. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, tears swimming close to the surface.   
“I'm sorry...” she said but had to stop as her teeth chattered together. She pulled the covers up to her ears. Mitch cursed inwardly and sat down on the bed.   
“Try and relax your jaw, it's the shock starting to kick in. I have to go get a few things, but I'll just be in the next room and I'll be right back.” He made to get up but her hand shot out and gripped his arm.   
“Don't let Clem see me, I don't want her to know what happened...”  
Mitch held his hand over hers, instilling it with warmth and reassurance. “There's only me here, sweetheart, no one else. Abe or Jackson will have taken Clem to their place, probably to go see Dariela or Chloe. They'll keep her out of the way until you feel well enough to get up.”  
Her fingers unclenched from their grip on his arm. “Thank you.”

Out of the bedroom, the sliding door pulled to, Mitch stood at the sink, his fingers gripping the edge, his emotions all over the place, anger and fear paramount while sorrow and guilt fought for dominance. The crowd drawn to the drama had dispersed, only Jackson and Chloe remained. Seeing movement in the Airstream, Jackson mounted the stairs and poked his head in.  
“Mitch?” He kept his voice low and neutral. Mitch raised his head, swiping at his eyes before facing the younger man.  
“Hey.”  
“Anything Chloe and I can do to help?” Jackson asked, Chloe moving forward but keeping quiet.   
“Keep Clem away!” Mitch retorted quickly. “Jamie is going to need some time...”  
“Of course. Abe and Dariela are looking after her. Do you need anything?”  
“A new door?” Mitch gestured to the ruined metal door hanging off one hinge. Jackson grimaced at the twisted metal, sizing it up.   
“I think a whole new door is needed to fix this. Leave it to me, I'll see what I can get organized to sort it before tonight so you're secure.”  
“Thanks, Jackson. What have they done with him?”  
“Ah, I'm not sure. He was taken back to his parents RV, same with the two boys. I can go call the authorities...”   
Mitch shook his head. “No way I want Jamie put through that right now.”  
“You don't have to. Abe and I were witnesses, our statements should be sufficient to have him locked up until Jamie is well enough to give her own statement.”  
Mitch chewed his lip. “Okay. If they'll take your word as fact. Make sure I don't see any of those bastards anywhere near here, or near Clem.”  
“Don't worry about that, just take care of Jamie. I'll let you know later how I get on.” Jackson turned to leave, Chloe leaving before him, the pair of them walking away, already talking about what needed to be done. Mitch watched them go, then gave himself a mental kick into doctor-mode, thinking about what he needed to do, to complete a rape kit. It should be done by someone independent but he'd be damned if he'd let someone near his love until she was ready to make her own decisions free of fear and pain. Putting together a medical kit and grabbing the digital camera, he returned to the bedroom, closing the sliding door behind him.


	5. Picking Your Battles

Jamie managed to make it through the rape kit without breaking down, Mitch helping her to the shower afterward, standing guard outside, a blanket draped over the broken doorway to give her privacy. He wrapped her in a large towel when she was done, carrying her to the bedroom, the covers and sheets changed while she perched on a window ledge and waited, not wanting to have him out of her sight. With the laundry tossed into the hallway, he slid the door shut and helped her to the bed, drying her off gently then slipping on some soft clothing. She had withdrawn from him during the rape kit procedure, not speaking after giving him permission to take what he needed, closing her eyes when he took photos of the bruising. Now she made no protest when he dried and dressed her, eventually laying her down on the fresh bedding and drawing the covers up. Her hair was still damp, but he'd pulled her around enough, leaving it to air dry, a fresh towel placed on the pillow under her head. He sat on the bedside next to her and held out a small plastic medicine cup with a measure of liquid in it. Jamie took it without question, only pulling a small grimace when she swallowed the sedative. She handed it back and closed her eyes. Her hand reached for him and he took it, enfolding it between both his hands, warming it. He stayed like that, her hand held within his until she slept.

Mitch had no idea how he did it, but Jackson was true to his word, finding a new door for the Airstream before night fell. It was a different color, painted not metal, and was missing some of the modifications of the old door, but it fitted the hinge brackets and was lockable. Dariela helped Jackson fit the new door, one of the other campers helping as well. While they worked, Mitch carefully packed and labeled the swabs, blood sample, nail clippings and other evidence along with a pen drive holding the photos. Everything was put into a paper bag ready to be handed to the local Police Department. Jackson had told him the officer he spoke to, would send a courier to collect the evidence with another officer coming to interview him and Jamie in the morning. Mitch thanked the camper for helping then pulled Jackson to one side.  
“What about the piece of shit?” Mitch asked low voiced.  
“Ah...we have a problem there. Three of the campervans that arrived with us are gone.”  
“What?” Mitch stared at him in disbelief. Jackson rested his hands on his hips and hung his head.  
“The Hagars have taken Logan with them, same with the parents of the other two boys. They're all gone. No one saw when they left, or if they did, didn't realize the importance or have the ability to stop them.  
“Fuck!” Mitch swore, stepping away from the Airstream, his hands fisted. “Didn't anyone have the sense to put a guard on them?”  
Jackson held his hands out from his body. “I was off-site, sorting out another door for here. Abe is still at our RV with Chloe and Clem. There was no-one else. I'm sorry, Mitch, but he's gone. We can pass on the details of the families and the vehicles for the cops to chase up, but...”  
Mitch closed his eyes, his rage tempered by guilt. He'd been too late to save her, put her through a now pointless procedure and her attacker was in the wind. He'd failed her utterly. A patrol car pulled up beside him, the driver leaning out to speak to him.  
“I'm here to pick up a parcel from a Mitch Morgan?” the driver held up a wallet with a police badge on display.  
Mitch looked up, stared at the badge and then nodded. “I'm Mitch Morgan. I'll get the evidence for you.” He walked back to the RV and collected the package.  
“Some of the samples need to be in refrigerated as soon as possible,” he instructed the driver. “There's also a pen drive with photos in there as well, plus my contact details and paperwork.” He handed over the paper bag and the driver put it on the passenger seat, driving off without another word. Mitch turned back to face Jackson, Dariela hovering in the background.  
“Thank you for finding and fixing the door. Send Clem back if she wants to come. I'll be with Jamie.” He didn't wait for an answer, having no desire to engage in conversation. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head sunk into his hands when Clem returned. She stood in the doorway staring at the woman curled on her side in the bed, then at her father. Jamie seemed to be just sleeping, but she noted that the bed had been completely changed, the old linen currently stuffed into the shower cubicle to await being taken to the laundry.  
“Dad?” she stepped over and sat beside him. Mitch raised his head and managed a smile for her.  
“Hey, kiddo. Hope you had a good time....” His voice trailed off, unable to continue. “I'm sorry, Clem.” He put his arm around his daughter and held her tight, Clem hugging him back.  
“What happened to Jamie?” she asked in a small voice.  
“Someone hurt her. Nothing fatal, but she'll need time to get better.” He drew in a deep breath. “And we have to be prepared for the fact she may not want to stay with us anymore.”  
Clem pulled back a little way, distressed, looking into his face. “Why?”  
“Well, since we met Jamie her friend died, she was attacked by a hybrid, we dragged her into a battle against a road gang and now she's been attacked and hurt, again.” He laughed softly. “I could hardly blame her if she never wanted to see me or any of us ever again.”  
“But that wasn't our fault, we didn't make the man die, or make the hybrid attack her...” Clem leaned into him, wanting him to reassure her things would be alright. Mitch wanted to, wanted it so badly for himself, but he wouldn't lie to her.  
“I know we didn't do those things and it wasn't us that attacked her this time either, but you have to understand...sometimes, when people have been through the trauma Jamie has, they don't want to be around the places or people that constantly remind them of what happened. Often, to heal, they need to get away.”  
“But I don't want her to go, she was happy with us...with you.” She started to cry, burying her face in her father's shoulder, not really understanding. Mitch held her and let her give vent to tears he wished he could shed. After a few minutes, Clem pulled back and wiped her face. Mitch used his thumb to dry her cheeks.  
“Look, Jamie won't wake for several hours yet, so why don't we get ourselves something to eat. It's been a long day. Do we have any of those mini frozen pizza's left?”

As he predicted, Jamie slumbered right through the night, stirring only when the sky was starting to lighten with the approach of dawn. Mitch lay on the floor next to the bed, on top of a sleeping bag with a pillow. He had wanted to lay on the bed beside her, but until her state of mind was assessed, he'd keep his distance at least until after the police officer had been and taken their statements. His perceived burden of guilt gnawed at him, skewing his sense of perspective. It had taken him a long time to finally fall asleep, his dreams disturbed with his uneasy state of mind.

Jamie gradually heard the world coalesce around her, the dawn chorus of birds welcoming the morning, the distant roar of vehicles crossing the bridge down the road, the muted creak and bang of doors being opened and closed on vehicles as people started to move about and get ready to start the day. She heard the sound of heavy breathing in the room with her, taking a second to recognize it as Mitch, the direction confusing her for a moment until she realized he must be on the floor, not in the bed beside her. Why he'd be sleeping on the floor was a question to ask later. Right now she needed the toilet and that meant getting out of bed. She rolled from her side onto her back, that simple movement alone highlighting a number of sore spots and new aches to add to her recent collection of injuries. She reached up to the back of her head, the lump there still tender but not as bad after having a few hours to go down. Her tentative exploration of her thighs made her hiss when her fingers found the bruises left by Logan holding her down. As for her most intimate of areas, she left well enough alone. She'd be reminded of them when she went to pee. Resigning herself to that inevitability, she rolled onto her side away from where Mitch was, shuffling her legs forward to the edge of the mattress, the sheets cool where her body heat hadn't reached. Easing back the covers she pushed herself upright, gathering herself before standing up. That achieved without any appreciable side effects, she carefully padded across the carpet to the sliding door and eased it back. It wasn't entirely noiseless, but it didn't wake Mitch, so she let out the breath she was holding. When she reached the shower she was stumped for a moment with all the bed linen heaped up in the space. Pushing the sheets and pillowcases off the toilet lid and onto the floor, she trampled it down and used the loo. That hurt. Her abdomen was sore from the rough treatment and her pelvis complained because of her struggles, her twisting and bucking using muscles rarely exercised. Done, she got up and carefully blotted between her legs, glad to not have blood on the paper, before flushing. Mission accomplished, she left the cubicle and went to the sink to wash her hands, peering out between the open blinds at the people starting to move around the campgrounds. Clem was still asleep and she smiled, glad to have her back home. She gave a chuckle, laughing at herself for such sentimental notions such as 'home' and 'family'. They'd been so close to having something good between them, not just her and Mitch, but with Clem included. The day before they'd worked seamlessly through the Battle of Black Mountain, was that only yesterday? She and Mitch were compatible on so many levels, not least of which sexually. Now when he looked at her he'd only see her as a rape victim, used goods, a magnet for trouble, a jinx that could bring harm to his daughter. She understood that, Clem was the most important person in his world, and rightly so. Jamie Campbell was only a recent addition and a troublesome one at that. She chuckled to herself again, was she really surprised that she'd fucked it all up again, her life seemingly a series of cluster fucks from start to finish. Damn, but it could have been so good, starting up a new life on the west coast, having people around that wanted her there, that liked her and she liked back. She'd come so close to having it all, which was probably why she should have realized it would all be blown to hell. She felt her fingers close around something cold and hard, a glance down confirming that her old friend was back, patiently waiting to be used to punish her, assuage her guilt at messing up peoples lives along with her own. It was almost comforting to have a knife in her hand again. 

Mitch came awake with a start, his heart racing. He'd been dreaming, something horrible but he couldn't immediately recall what it was, only that he didn't want to see it again by going back to sleep. Sitting up he put on his glasses and automatically checked the bed, alarm bells ringing when he saw it was empty, the covers pushed back and Jamie gone. Getting to his feet he padded noiselessly out of the bedroom, his heart picking up the pace when he saw Jamie by the kitchen sink, a knife in her hand apparently about to plunge it into her arm. Aware of his daughter only a few feet away, he darted forward and snatched the knife out of her hand, Jamie looking up at him in some surprise, not resisting when he took the blade away. His hand wrapped around her upper arm and he hauled her back to the bedroom, pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed. He shut the door behind him then rounded on her.  
“What in all the fucking holy hells did you think you were doing?” he shout/whispered at her. “Was it so bad you thought you'd take your life and have my daughter wake up and find you?” He still held the knife in one hand, his fists waving in the air as he tried to express his horror and terror at what she'd been doing. Jamie watched him with a sort of detached calm, completely relaxed because she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but also insanely calm because, on some level, she wanted him to hurt her, pay her back for all the trouble she'd caused. She suddenly realized he'd stopped talking, his face caught in an expression of confusion and anger.  
“I wasn't going to kill myself, Mitch,” she told him, her voice soft and calm. She held up her left arm, turning it so the soft white underside was clear to see. Down the length, from elbow to wrist were numerous faint silvery lines, long healed but still evidence of how she'd coped in years past.  
Mitch stared at them, his fists relaxing as he tried to rationalize why someone would want to scar themselves.  
“Why?”  
Jamie smiled. “Everyone one has their own reason for cutting. For me, it was a way to cut through the noise, if you'll excuse the pun. I started after my mother died. Probably had something to do with my confusion at the time. I thought I'd caused it, certainly I hadn't been more helpful or nice to her at the end, I was a horrible person.”  
“How old were you?”  
“Eleven.”  
“For fuck's sake. You were a kid.”  
Jamie shrugged. “For a long time I hated everyone, but mostly I hated myself. School didn't improve that state of mind, so I left home. My poor Uncle and Aunt never understood, but they loved me anyway. Pain helped me focus, it helped to make sense of the world, the people I had to work with. Made me a better person, in the long run.”  
While she talked, Mitch had realized he still held the knife and tossed it out into the hallway before shutting the bedroom door again. He now sat on the bed beside her, his elbows on his knees, listening to her but not looking at her.  
“Why now?”  
Jamie turned her head to look at him, her eyes roaming over his profile, loving his disordered bed hair, wanting to run her fingers through it. “Because I've ruined everything. Before Logan, I thought that I couldn't be happier than I was, right then. We had just fought a battle and won. You and Clem treated me like family, like I belonged with you. You and I, we were so good together and...” she stopped, swallowing hard to get past the lump in her throat. “But regrets are useless. Logan did happen, has happened and it's all fucked up again.”  
Mitch turned his head to look at her, his eyes burning into hers. “How is it fucked up, because last time I looked, what happened to you was not your fault. It was my fault for not protecting you better, my fault for not seeing what Logan was capable of. If there's blame to be handed out it is all mine, not yours. Nobody blames you at all, least of all me and certainly not Clem. She only knows you were attacked.”  
“Well, that's crazy. You've done nothing but help me and Clem has been awesome. Neither of you is to blame for anything. I got my friend killed, I wasn't smart enough to fend off that hybrid, and Logan...I could have fought harder.” Her voice faded away, her gaze sliding away from his to stare off into nothing.  
“I told Clem you wouldn't want to stay with us anymore, that you'd want to get right away from everything that reminded you.”  
Her eye swiveled back to his, once more focused. “I don't want to leave, I have to leave...you won't want me to be around your daughter anymore...”  
Mitch frowned at her. “Why the hell not? Nothing that has happened was instigated or planned by you. I sure as hell don't want you to go, neither does Clem but I understand if all this,” he indicated the room. “Is too painful to see every day.”  
Jamie changed her position, twisting to face him better. “This bed didn't hurt me, neither did this room, in fact, nothing in this tin can has hurt me. Leaving you and Clem will kill me, but I'd do it if it would mean keeping her safe.”  
Mitch stared at her, completely confounded. “That has to be the most fucked up illogical argument I've ever heard. Have you listened to a word I've said?” He turned and grasped her upper arms, shaking her a little. “We don't blame you for anything and we don't want you to leave us, for any reason. I don't know what the hell is squirming around in that messed up brain of yours but I want you to understand, none of this is your fault.” He stared into her eyes, willing her to believe him. “I know all too well we've only known each other for a very short time, hardly enough to establish favorite colors or music we hate, but I know that what we have is good, that it works. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you.” He let her go, his emotions raw, bubbling over and leaving him drained. He turned away. He'd done his best to convince her, now he had to leave her be. He made to get up but a hand on his wrist forestalled him. He turned his head, his heart thumping, fearful of what he'd hear and see.  
Jamie was looking back at him, no sign of confusion or worry in her eyes, just a shining clarity and simple honesty that made him swallow the question he'd been about to ask. He saw her lips move but didn't hear what she said at first, then she repeated the words and they rushed at him like a tornado.  
“I love you.”  
He could literally feel his jaw hit the ground. Of all the words he'd expected to spill from those lips, the three he heard were so far down the list they were invisible to the naked eye. He felt a hot flush rush through him then a shiver that had nothing to do with temperature fizzed down his spine.  
“Did you just say...?”  
“I love you.”  
“I'm not hearing things...?”  
“I love you.”  
“You're quite sure...?”  
“I L.O.V.E.You.” She spelled it out so there was no possible misunderstanding. When he made to speak again she held two fingers against his lips to stop him. “I don't expect you to reciprocate in kind, Mitch. I'm fully aware that for some, falling in love takes time, takes knowing the other person so intimately and fully there are no secrets left to discover. I don't believe that. I think that if you believe in love, you know when you see it. I felt it with Clementine, that first time she approached to ask if there was anything wrong. I felt it when you looked at me across the picnic table, and I see it in you now. Other's would argue that I'm still suffering the trauma of yesterday, that I don't know what I'm saying or thinking or feeling. Bullshit. Nobody knows me like me. I don't want to leave you, or Clem and this room held nothing but good memories before yesterday. Do you hold inanimate objects responsible for what is done on them?”  
“No,” Mitch managed to croak in reply.  
“Neither do I. Should we give up and go our separate ways because of what someone else did?”  
“No.” His voice was clearer, stronger now. Jamie smiled. She shifted on the mattress edging over towards him, Mitch lifting his arm to place it about her shoulder as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. They sat there, not talking, just being, letting the early morning tick by as they absorbed the words spoken and sought a way forward. 

Clementine kicked back her covers and stretched, the sun pouring through the slats warming her. The campervan was quiet, the bedroom door down the hall pulled to. She went to the shower to use the loo and saw the bed linen piled up in the corner. Tutting to herself, she found the laundry basket and dumped the sheets in that, clearing the small bathroom. Taking care of business, she flushed then washed her hands before creeping down to slide the door back and peep into her dad's bedroom.  
Her face split into a delighted grin. Her father and Jamie were cuddled up on top of the bed covers, wrapped in each other's arms, his chin buried in her hair, her arms wrapped around his chest, legs entangled, both sleeping peacefully. Careful not to make any noise, Clem closed the sliding door and skipped away, gathering up the basket, laundry powder and some coins and leaving the RV, still in her pajamas, but content that somehow, someway, her two favourite people in the world had sorted their shit out overnight and come to an agreement that suited Clem very nicely. 

A knock at the Airstream's new door pulled Mitch out of sleep and back to the world. He untangled himself from Jamie and padded down to open the front door. Outside was Abe and Jackson, flanking a man in a suit.  
“Mitch Morgan?” the man asked.  
“The same.”  
“I'm Detective Murray. I'm here to take your statement as well as the victim's and witnesses.”  
“You've been summoned on a bit of a wasted journey. The boys involved in the attack have fled with their families,” Mitch told him. The detective looked up at him.  
“Are you saying you don't want to lay a complaint?”  
Mitch felt a hand on his arm and turned, finding Jamie standing beside him.  
“Invite the poor man in, Mitch.” He gave her a small smile then stood aside, waving the officer into the RV. Abe and Jackson followed. They all found seats, the officer looking around at the circle of faces, coming to rest on Jamie's. She was wearing an old dressing gown of Mitch's, an enveloping garment in an ugly mix of brown tartan, but somehow, with her cloud of red hair, she made it work.  
“If you're feeling up to it, I'd like to interview you first...”  
Mitch and Jamie both spoke at the same time.  
“I want Mitch with me...”  
“Not without me...”  
The officer arched an eyebrow. “It's not recommended to have a spouse or partner sit in on an interview...”  
“I'm her doctor and I insist.”  
“Please, I want him there.”  
Faced with implacable opposition the officer gave in. “Fine. I'll have to ask you gentlemen to step outside and wait while I take their statements.” Abe and Jackson got to the feet, Abe bending down to inform Mitch that Clem was at their RV with the girls, and his laundry was with her, if he was wondering where it was. Mitch nodded and thanked him. When they were gone and the door shut, the officer took out a small voice recorder and set it up, speaking into it giving his name, the time and date and the reason for the interview and people present, Jamie and Mitch giving their full names when asked.  
“Miss Campbell...”  
“Jamie.”  
“Okay. Jamie, in your own words please relate the events that led up to the attack on you.”  
“There was no attack per se, I was raped by Logan Hagar while being held down by two other, younger boys, I don't know their names.”  
“Alright. Walk me through that.” Jamie drew in a steadying breath, her hand searching for and finding Mitch's, gripping his fingers tightly.  
“I was taking a shower. Mitch was at the campground office calling to report the road gangs. Clem had gone out to play with her friends. I forgot to lock the door to the outside and went to take a shower. When I was done I wrapped up my hair and my body in towels and stepped out to dry my feet on the mat. I had my back to this room, then somebody let out a wolf whistle. I turned around and Logan was right there, a few steps behind me and the two boys were sitting at the table.” She glanced at Mitch briefly then back at the detective. “I don't remember everything he said, but it was along the lines of I must be tired of sex with an old man, something like that. I started to back towards the bedroom, thinking I might be able to slide the door shut and lock it, but he put his foot in the way and followed me in.” She paused, Mitch feeling her start to tremble.  
“Please go on, Jamie. What happened next?”  
“He backed me into the corner and I tried to call for help but he slapped his hand over my mouth, his other around my head so I couldn't break free. I struggled but I couldn't breathe, then he pinched off my nose and it went dark.”  
“You passed out?”  
“I think so. When I came to I was on my back, naked on the bed. I had a gag in my mouth and the boys were holding my arms down, one on each side. Logan...er...he was forcing my legs apart. He already had his trousers down and his...penis was hanging out of his underwear. I tried to close my legs but he dug his fingers into my thighs...” She closed her eyes for a moment, turning her body into Mitch. After taking a moment's comfort she opened her eyes and stared at the detective, her gaze unfocused. “He held me down. I tried to twist and buck to stop him penetrating me, but he was too strong. He pushed into me. I wasn't prepared and it was painful. Extremely so. The boys holding me let my arms go, I don't know why, but I brought my hands up to scratch at Logan, but he kept knocking them away, all the time...using me.” She drew in a shuddering breath and her knuckles turned white where they gripped Mitch's hand. “The rest is a bit of a blur. I heard Mitch shouting, Jackson was there, the boys were gone and Logan was pulled out of me. I think Abe covered me up and took the gag out of my mouth. I don't know how much later but there was just Mitch there and he took care of me after that.”  
The detective switched off the recorder after ending the interview with a spoken time stamp.  
Mitch could feel the shudders raking her and moved to pick her up. “I'm taking her to lie down,” he announced, not waiting for permission, but walking off with her towards the bedroom. He lay her down on the bed, covering her with the blankets and smoothing the hair off her face, murmuring to her between kisses to her cheeks and forehead. The detective stood in the doorway.  
“I just need to get your statement, Doctor Morgan, then we're done here.”  
Mitch cast him a glance. “I'll be there in a moment.” He turned back to Jamie. “I'll be back really quickly. Can you hang on until then?” He waited for her to nod, then got up and left the bedroom.  
He gave a succinct rendition of his involvement, not flinching in relating what he'd done to the young man after pulling him away from Jamie. It only took a few minutes and he was done.  
“Thank you, Doctor Morgan, I think we have all we need. I'll interview the other two gentlemen outside and leave you both alone. I'll file the report along with the information about the young man and his cohorts. We'll put out a wanted notice countrywide, but I have to warn you, things are still only slowly getting back to normal. We, the local and national PD are heavily undermanned and what judiciary is operating are backed up. I don't want to say that nothing will be done, only that it might take time to bring this case to justice.”  
“We realize that, Detective Murray. I'm only sorry we have none of his DNA to add to the evidence.”  
“True, that is often the clincher in these cases, but given the witness statements, I think we have a strong case without it.” He reached out and Mitch shook his hand, seeing the man out of the RV to where Abe and Jackson waited. After shutting the door, Mitch returned to the bedroom and climbed into the bed, pulling Jamie into his arms where she wept all over his chest, Mitch not bothering to wipe the wetness from his own face while he held her, glad that at least he could comfort her.

Clem appeared in the late afternoon with the dry basket of laundry and a present for Jamie, a small bouquet of wildflowers tied with a ribbon. “I searched along the river bank and found them. They probably won't last long, and they don't really have a smell, but I thought you might like them.”  
Jamie took the bunch of flowers and reached out to give Clem a hug. “Thank you, they're beautiful.” Mitch produced a glass jar of water and she put them into it, placing it in the middle of the dining table to be admired.  
“Get cleaned up, kiddo, we eat in in five.”  
Clem was back in three and sat next to Jamie at the table. Mitch handed out plates and dished up the meal, before sitting down himself. It was nothing fancy, but it was hot and filling and got them all together in one place like a real family. Clem chattered on about what she'd been doing, what she'd seen while exploring the river bank, what she'd done with Chloe, the Frenchwoman braiding Clem's long hair and trying out different styles on the girl, provoking much laughter when Dariela arrived with a treat for the afternoon, a bag of homemade biscuits from one of the residents in the campgrounds. “I'm sorry, but we ate them all, they were so good,” Clem admitted.  
After they'd eaten the table was cleared and they played a couple of Clementine's favorite card games, the girls teaming up to defeat Mitch who cried foul, but then cheated just as badly until they gave up because nobody was able to win.  
“How long are we going to stay here?” Clem asked. “Some of the others are thinking of staying here for several days, or so the kids said.”  
“I don't know. I'll have to wait until they call a meeting to discuss when we're leaving for Salt Lake City.”  
“Are there likely to be any of those Razorback creatures here?” she asked.  
“Again, I don't know. I'll go and speak to the camp manager and see what they've heard. It's possible they haven't come into the cities or places heavily populated, like here. They may only like places that are remote or close to wild areas, like national parks,” Mitch explained.  
Clem didn't look convinced. “There are certainly more cars and trucks and stuff. One of the residents had a cat. It's been so long since I've seen anyone with a pet, I couldn't wait to stroke it.”

Jamie chose to turn in early and Clem had been given a book to read from one of her new friends, so she was set until bedtime. Mitch decided to find out the buzz around the remaining travelers in the convoy and went to visit Jackson's RV. He was welcomed warmly, Abe being there along with Chloe and Dariela. Mitch mentioned Clem's question about how long they'd be staying and they decided to go broach the subject with Allan and Eric. Both men joined them outside their respective RV, so as not to disturb their families. They found a couple of picnic tables set up with lights around them and sat down.  
“What's the feeling among the others, Allan?” Mitch asked. The foreman clasped his hands together before answering.  
“I think people are feeling split about whether to carry on or stay here, where things are looking so normal.”  
“I wasn't aware that anyone was saying they couldn't stay here,” Abe interjected. “So why don't they just stay?”  
“They might, but I think it's more that they want a break from the excitement of the last week.” Eric chipped in. “I don't get the feeling that everyone was quite as enthusiastic about the road gang incident as some of us were.”  
“Fine with me. Let them stay here, we'll accompany those that want to stop at Salt Lake City and get our own trip underway to the west coast.” Mitch was getting irritated with all the delays and the whole business of taking everyone's point of view into account.  
“Yeah. About that...” Allan added. “Those that still want to travel to the coast have some concerns.”  
“About?” Mitch pushed.  
“What they're likely to encounter out in the desert, for one. I know that it's pretty much a day trip from Salt Lake to San Fran, but at the speed and pace of the slowest campervan, that could stretch into two days minimum, not allowing for breakdowns or unknowns.”  
Jackson spoke up. “We can't deal with unknowns if we don't know how many are still committed to this convoy. We've already lost three we didn't expect to, and another two are slated to stay in Salt Lake, so that will leave us, optimistically with seventeen to make the westward crossing with. Most of those are the smaller, lighter campervans plus the car. If nobody decides to stay here in Idaho Falls, then we have a convoy of six lightweights, and eleven biggies plus the Lexus. There won't be enough to make up a formation if we meet up with more of these road gangs.”  
The statistics hung in the air, no one speaking for several minutes, thinking through what had been said.  
“We need to call a meeting tomorrow and determine who is wanting to do what,” Mitch stated. “I can only speak for myself and my family, that we are heading west with as many or as few want to join us.”  
“Same with us,” Jackson added.  
“Chloe and me are with you guys, so don't even think of ditching us,” Dariela confirmed, sending Abe a lopsided grin, the pair of them bumping knuckles over the picnic table.  
“Same with Eric and myself,” Allan added gruffly. “There's nothing this side of the Sierra Nevada's for us or our families.”  
“Then let's make a date,” Eric clapped his hands together and stood up. “Meeting tomorrow after breakfast. It's not much more than three hours or so to Salt Lake City, we can make it before lunch if we put our minds to it. I'll go and start passing the word around.” Allan also got up.  
“I'm as eager as you all are to get this show on the road. We'll try to keep the meeting short.” Then he was gone back to his RV.  
“Guess that's all settled then. With or without the rest, we're off tomorrow after the meeting.” Jackson looked around the table at his friends, most of whom nodded their agreement. Chloe gave him a look and tilted her head to the side, indicating she wanted to speak to him – alone. Jackson got up and rubbed his hands together. “I'll see you all tomorrow. Night!”  
The others turned to watch the couple walk away into the shadows, their silhouettes blending into one as they passed one of the camp lights. Mitch cleared his throat and got to his feet.  
“Far be it for me to play gooseberry, I'm off. Have a good night, folks.” He gave Abe and Dariela a mock salute then jogged off in the opposite direction, back to where the Airstream was parked.  
“Guess that just leaves you and me, Big Guy!” Dariela drawled, sliding along the bench until she bumped into Abe's side.  
“A situation I am very happy with,” Abe replied, bending his dark head to hers.

Jamie was only dozing when he slid into their bed, rolling over to snuggle up against him, his arms wrapping around her to keep her close to his heart.  
“Did I wake you?”  
“No. I was waiting for you to come to bed. Did the meeting go well?”  
“There was only a few of us there, but there's a full meeting called for tomorrow after breakfast. Hopefully, it'll be short and we'll be on the road before ten.”  
“Did you get a chance to ask about the hybrids?”  
Mitch took off his glasses and reached up to put them on the shelf. “To tell the truth, I forgot about that. I'll ask him before we leave, but the way everyone is so relaxed and talking about long term, I'm thinking they haven't been seen anywhere near here.”  
“Isn't that promising? Maybe they're only a problem in the north or only in wild places.”  
“That's a possibility, but animals that aggressive are looking for territory. Without knowing what they are hybrids of, which species they are derived from, their behavior and biological drives are unknown.”  
“So, if you knew they were made from wolves mixed with something else....?”  
“It would give me a base behavior to work from. Wolves have a very specific structure to their packs, they hunt in a very special way and they mark their territories so other's don't invade.”  
“Hmmm...this is kinda your wheelhouse, isn't it?”  
“Yeah. Kinda. What boggles my mind is why anyone would go to the trouble and expense of making them in the first place. Combining DNA like this and producing a viable end result isn't as easy as just emptying one test tube into another and culturing the cells. This is more like gene splicing, or gene manipulation, playing about with and altering the basic building blocks of an animal from the ground up. Even with a top of the line laboratory, it would take years to refine, let alone produce an actual living, breathing hybrid. Even after, if it was possible, you could only take clones of the creature and they've proved problematic despite developments in recent years.”  
“Plus, why had no one come forward to claim them?” Jamie asked. “Surely this is groundbreaking, noble prize winning stuff?”  
“On the surface, yes you could say that, but we come back to the ethical and moral part of the equation. Just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should.”  
“Kinda like Jurassic Park?”  
“Exactly. Whoever is creating, cloning or breeding these mutations, they've been working on it for years.”  
“Maybe they were a breeding experiment to produce something for the army and escaped during the animal uprising?”  
“All equally plausible. Maybe Yellowstone is the site of a secret underground scientific mega-laboratory where mad scientists actually make all the mad stuff no one else will touch.”  
As intended, Jamie giggled at his joking. “You think they have Doctor Frankenstein down there creating his monster?”  
“Or they're exposing ants and spiders to radioactive substances and making them grow huge!”  
They both chuckled softly for a moment. Jamie tapped him on the chest.  
“You've been watching too many b-grade horror movies for your own good.”  
“Nagh. They were great. The Fly, Them...oh and one not to miss...The Killer Shrews!”  
“There was never a movie called The Killer shrews!”  
“Uh huh, there was, a mad scientist on an island who experiments on shrews until they get really big then start to eat people. I think I laughed through the whole movie, mostly because they obviously couldn't use real shrews, so they used dogs with masks on to be the killer beasties.”  
Jamie joined in with his laughter, keeping it soft so not to wake Clem. “What were they thinking?” she giggled.  
“Maybe someone else saw the same movie and decided that looked like a good idea,” Mitch added, the mood turning somber. Jamie moved to get closer, a shiver running down her spine.  
“I always thought the mad scientist trope only existed in movies,” she murmured. Mitch turned to press a kiss to her head.  
“So did I.”

Jamie sat next to Mitch at the meeting and tried to ignore the eyes that kept swiveling in her direction to stare at her, albeit briefly before turning their attention to the speaker, but it happened time and again and she fidgetted. She had made a real effort to look as normal as possible. Her hair was smoothed back into a bun, her clothes just jeans, jumper and jacket, with boots, nothing fancy. She stared straight ahead, not meeting anyone's eyes, keeping her expression neutral, impervious, untouchable. But still, the eyes kept staring, the kids the worse, their parents not much better. Mitch sensed her unease and held her hand loosely in his. Clementine sat on the other side of her, her young body leaning against Jamie, adding warmth down that side of her. So she sat there, looking normal and behaving normally, but feeling as if she was the censure of everyone's eyes. It made her skin itch and crawl, her nerves stretching until she wanted to jump up and scream at them all to stop staring at her like she had horns growing out of her head.  
“Not much longer now,” Mitch whispered to her, feeling the tension radiating from her and guessing why it was. She hadn't wanted to go to the stupid meeting, but it was thought prudent to show her face and prove that she was fine, that she had the full support of Mitch and Clem, as well as of her friends, who were sitting nearby. Everyone was being supportive and not treating her like a victim, or a hysteric. She just wished that all the others could pick up on that and tell their horrible, rude children to stop staring at her. It reached the point where she was just going to have to flee back to the RV and be damned, when the meeting ended and they could leave. She hadn't heard a word of what had been decided or what was discussed.  
“I'll tell you all about it when we get back to the RV,” Mitch said in an aside, now able to read her mind, apparently.  
“Thank you,” she whispered back, squeezing his fingers with her own. Their friends caught up with them and they tossed comments back and forth about points that had been raised, Jamie inferring from those that what remained of the original convoy was going to be heading out within the hour.  
“I'll be so glad to leave this godawful place.” Her quiet, heartfelt words fell into a sudden silence and she blushed when she realized everyone else was looking at her a little startled, then they recovered and started to chatter again, her comment absorbed into the general talk. Soon they were dispersing to their own campervans and Mitch was handing her up into theirs. The Audra Two was ready to roll. She'd already been driven around to the sump to have her septic pumped out, and her water tank refilled. Mitch had removed some of the heavy armor that had been attached for the battle, leaving the windscreen clear but everything else intact. The metal RV looked a little strange with the cow-catcher on the front, but it didn't hurt the vehicle's performance, so he didn't bother to remove it. Everything loose inside was once more secured and locked down, each of them taking their familiar seats, the CB firing up to let those that were going it was time to move out. 

Twelve now made up the number of the convoy, the rest choosing to follow on later, or stay behind for good. Of the larger RV's they had only seven which included the Audra Two, Jackson and Abe, the foreman, Allan and his family, Eric and his, plus three other families that were headed for the west coast. Two out of the remaining five smaller campers and vans would remain behind once they reached Salt Lake City, with the last ten making for the west coast and San Francisco. Despite not bothering to be in any particular order the vehicles still put Allan in the lead, Eric behind him, Mitch, then Jackson, then Dariela and Chloe and the rest strung out behind with the car, now driven by the husband of one of the couples, the wife driving their van, both in the rear.  
Once they were on the road, Jamie felt herself relax into her seat, her hands slowly unfisting so her fingers lay flat on her thighs. Even though the place really had nothing to do with what happened to her, she was glad to see the back of it. Mitch had come back from quizzing the RV camp manager with the news that indeed, there had been no sighting of anything unusual in or around the camp or the city itself, which either proved or disproved his theory, he wasn't quite sure which.  
The drive to Salt Lake City meant crossing over into Utah, following the interstate fifteen from door to door. Traffic was light and they sailed through the outskirts of Idaho Falls without mishap. It was heartening and an indication that things were slowly getting back to a version of normal, to see a number of long-haul trucks heading in the opposite direction, as well as a petrol tanker. The convoy had already refueled at the nearest gas station on the outskirts, but with the promise of more regular supplies already reaching major cities it lifted some of the worries off anxious shoulders.  
The countryside passed by in an unceasing panorama of flat, agricultural land as far as the eye could see on both sides of the interstate. It was like driving over a billiard table under an expanse of sky covered in high, grey overcast. Despite the lack of sun, Mitch still wore his sunglasses over his prescription pair, his focus entirely on the road ahead and the RV just a little way ahead. Because of the condition of the roads and amount of traffic it was decided they didn't have to be so closely bunched up as there was little likelihood of a repeat of the road gangs on a road so well traveled. That meant they stretched back for quite a way, keeping to the inner lane, the occasional faster vehicle speeding past, sometimes waving as they passed.  
The landscape radically changed when they passed through the Snake River lava field known locally as Hell's Half Acre. Clem had picked up a map of the general area and was reading out the facts and figures as they passed the unusual rock formations and scrubby growth growing in it.  
“Wow, the lava field has been here since it erupted five thousand years ago and covered in vents and lava tubes. Cool.”  
They passed through the area and emerged once more into broad acres of cultivated land, crops once more planted and growing for a late season harvest. Mile after flat mile passed under the wheels, the sun rising and getting closer to midday. Driving through Pocatello they entered the folded hills that continued until they grew into the mountain and canyon lands, the border into Utah crossed at Woodruff, the road snaking through the river valley approach to the huge area of salt lakes giving the city its name. Now the high ridges only flanked the road on one side, the other stretching to the horizon, encompassing the wetlands, marshes, bird sanctuaries and lakes bordering the city ahead. The first distant glimpse of the vast salt lake itself was seen at Willard, the road skirting around the edge before diving into the suburbs and city itself. Their destination to drop off those staying in Utah was in the suburb of Layton, the convoy parking outside the RV Park designated, saying goodbye to another two of their number.  
A quick conflab with the remaining drivers of each vehicle confirmed they wanted to push on and leave Salt Lake in their dust. A provisional target for the rest of the day was to reach the small, desert town of Winnemucca and stay there for the night before making the final push the morning after to San Francisco. Allan spent a few minutes having a word with the RV park owner, checking for anything other travelers may have passed on about the interstate eighty they were about to travel and the conditions beyond.  
With no news of anything untoward waiting for them, they got back on the road, taking the turnoff for the west onto the Lincoln Highway, negotiating the elaborate beltway just before the airport, then heading beyond the burbs to the edge of the Great Salt Lake, to skirt that until Bermeister. A request for a top of fresh produce called a halt for half an hour, everyone falling on the chance to get their hands on such rarities as fresh bread, fresh milk, fruit, and veggies all grown locally and eggs. With the bounty onboard, they got back onto the highway heading west at long last.  
Beyond the confines of the city, the landscape changed dramatically with salt pans gleaming white under the sun, the interstate running past salt ponds in the near distance, the heaped-up substance looking like snow. The water the salt came from looked like huge mirrors laying on the ground, no ripples or movement to disturb the surface. They drove through what had to be one of the most desolate and forbidding environments ever, while the road carried them further west.  
“You realize what all this vast expanse of salt pan means?” Mitch announced when a sign appeared announcing Wendover up ahead. Clem looked mystified, as did Jamie. Mitch looked aghast.  
“Oh come on. Big open space, lots of salt?” His audience still looked at him blankly. “The Bonneville Salt flats Speedway? Only the place where they test and race the fastest manmade machine on the planet, where rocket cars never run out of road?”  
The information was wasted on his clueless companions, Mitch subsiding, muttering to himself about the lack of education in schools, never mind that schools had been largely closed for the best part of three years. Both sides of the interstate were now an eye-watering vastness of white salt for as far as the heat haze would allow you to see. Clumps and spines of rock poked out of the whiteness, but barely made an impression, only emphasizes how flat it all was and how barren. All of them were wearing sunglasses now to cut down the glare from the endless white. The road stretched straight and seemed endless, Mitch suddenly pointing to a green sign advertising the Bonneville Speedway turnoff. Before too long the spines of rock were closing in on the road as they approached the outskirts of Wendover, crossing the border from Utah into Nevada as they rolled through the town, climbing into the hills to a high plateau and the deep desert. Instead of the bright white, there was an endless vista of brown rock, brown scrub, brown dirt, and the black road. Another hour and they arrived at Wells, a sizable settlement and a roomy rest stop for the convoy. The ten RV's rolled into the carpark of the shopping center which had a casino attached as well as a gas station and small businesses and workshops. By now they were all covered in a fine film of dust, heat slamming into the occupants as they stepped out onto the hot tarmac and surveyed the clear sky overhead. One of the smaller campervans was overheating so they borrowed the car to go and check out the workshops on the other side of the road to see if any were open or able to help. Everyone else scattered to check out what was on offer and stretch their legs.  
Mitch opened the awning on the side of the Airstream and set up some camp chairs so he and Jamie could sit in the shade enjoying cool glasses of fresh juice, one of the many treats they'd discovered at the last stop. Clem soon joined them, not wanting to wander too far in a strange place. The car soon came back and the couple drove their overheating camper off to be repaired. Others were checking their levels of oil and water, one of the six-wheeler RV's changing a dodgy tire. Those, like the Audra Two that didn't need any maintenance, were putting up their awnings to have a meal outside, the kids engaged in a game of chase until the heat sent them back inside to rest up and cool down. An hour later the missing campervan was back, repaired and running again. Glad for the lunch break, but now keen to get to their rest stop for the night, everyone packed up and climbed aboard. The last couple to arrive back running across the carpark whooping and hollering before jumping into their van and catching up with the rearguard.  
As Allan led the convoy back onto the interstate, a stream of motorcyclist appeared from the opposite direction, defying all the rules of the road and crossing over lanes to approach the rest stop down the off-ramp, causing Allan to slam on the brakes as well as everyone else behind him. The bikers didn't slow, just roaring past the RV's, between fifty to a hundred of them, the dust kicked up enveloping the waiting traffic in a cloud of yellow grit. When the last biker finally swept past them, Allan drew his RV forward again, leading his ducks westward and away from the rest stop at Wells.  
As the miles disappeared under their tires, the land remained the same, the roads leading straight into the mist of the distance. It would take a further two hours to reach Winnemucca before the day started to draw in, a thin cloud cover casting a veil over the bright sun. Flanking the interstate the tall peaks of the Humboldt mountain range, with their ever-present dusting of snow, loomed over the landscape giving is perspective and majesty. The remaining run to Winnemucca was as uneventful, and thankfully so, as the rest of the journey, the sun sinking low in the sky and welcoming them, the land around the interstate taking on a late afternoon golden glow. The interstate had been climbing and they reached the Golconda Summit pass with ease, in the distance ahead they could see what looked like low cloud wreathing some of the high peaks, hinting at the mountain passes to still be climbed past Reno, but when they were through the cut it was plain the low cloud was demoted, turning out to be a scrub fire way off in the distance.  
Allan brought them all into their rest stop for the night, taking an early turnoff leading to a series of RV parks, the second one being theirs. The camp manager welcomed them warmly and directed them to a bunch of parks so they could remain together, everyone glad to be able to get out from behind the wheel and cooped up in the campervans. Mitch, as was his want, walked back not only to stretch his legs but also to quiz the manager of the park about incidents in the area, especially reports about strange animal sightings. Admittedly he didn't expect to hear about the same animals, they were better suited for the more lushly forested lowlands and the high percentage of prey around Yellowstone. If anything was to be released in or around the desert region it would have to be a completely different creature. The manager was happy to chat but had no news of any interest to Mitch or the rest of the convoy, so he headed back. As he did so, he heard a distant roar getting closer with every second. He managed to get back to where the rest of the convoy was just as the noise rose to levels that would rattle most windows. Like a black-clad swarm, the camp was invaded by a number of motorcycle riders and their passengers, most carrying panniers and backpacks, the camp manager ignored as he tried to remonstrate with them that there simply were not enough tent sites to accommodate them all. Like back at Wells they ignored what was expected and just picked areas that suited them, parking up the bikes to make a wall of metal, acting like a fence between their tents and the other occupants of the park. Those that had been sitting outside to enjoy the last of the sun were forced to retreat back into their RV's because of the volume of noise and dust drifting across the park from the sheer number of wheels churning up the dirt, not helped when one of the riders decided to do donuts, throwing up a suffocating fog of dust.  
The convoy was parked a little way from where the gang had settled, but not far enough to be unaffected by their actions, the fog of dust drifting over to where they were, a hasty retreat their only option to avoid choking until it passed. When everyone emerged, the bikers were setting up their tents and gazebo's, barbeques and stereos, becoming obnoxious neighbors that nobody wanted to attempt to reprimand for their boorish behavior. The much-harrassed owner of the park could only go around the other residents and offer for them to park further away, the same offered to the members of the convoy who took him up on it and moved several spaces towards the outer edge of the park, despite this putting them some distance from the amenities. It was worth it to dull the noise starting to emanate from the newcomers.  
Mitch positioned the Audra Two with its back to the bikers, so that the space they used for sitting out under the awning was out of sight. Several of the campers did the same, even the smaller ones, using the bigger RV's to provide a wall and them some privacy. Huddled together, their backs to the camp, the Westies, as Allan started to call them, settled in to relax after the long and tedious haul across the desert and salt plains. It would have to be repeated tomorrow, but for now, they brought out the lights and tables, camp chairs and bug zappers, determined to make the most of the downtime before bunking down for a well-deserved rest.  
The Morgan's were sitting outside and enjoying the last of the evening light, their friends, and associates around them. Dariela was curled up in Abe's lap, the pair very comfortable with each other. Chloe and Jackson sat side by side, a discreet hand holding going on between them. Clem and other kids from the convoy were off exploring before it got dark, all of them extolled with strict instructions to avoid the bikers and not to go far. After being cooped up for the best part of the day they just wanted to burn off excess energy, taking a long way around to find the playground on the far side of the park. A couple of the parents went with them to keep an eye on things.  
Mitch was sitting relaxed in a camp chair, glad to not be moving. The roads had been fine, in good repair considering, but driving for hours inevitably gave his legs the jumps, plus his eyes were tired from constantly driving into the sun and the sameness of the country they drove through. Jamie was inside the camper using some of the fresh ingredients for their meal, the smell of fresh eggs cooking making his stomach rumble in anticipation. Soon enough she was exiting the RV with a plate in each hand, passing one to him before sitting down to enjoy hers, next to him. The other's watched, noting the look of appreciation for the fresh food pass over their faces.  
“Good, huh?” Jackson said. They had already eaten all together and now sat sipping a glass of something alcoholic to relax after the long day.  
“God, it's been so long since I ate fresh eggs. Powdered just don't cut it,” Mitch replied, savoring each bite and taking his time working through the omelete. Jamie was also making the most of hers, taking small forkfuls to make it last. They rounded off the meal by drinking the last of the freshly squeezed juice, something added to it to give it a kick. As they sat there chatting, the camp manager appeared around the corner, looking frazzled and wringing his hands.  
“I thought I should come over and warn you, as you're newcomers and aren't aware of the significance of the bikers here, tonight.”  
“Significance?” Mitch repeated. “So they do this on a regular basis?”  
The man nodded. “All too regular. They patrol this stretch of highway between Reno and Wells as if they own it, including everything and everyone who lives beside the highway or is passing through.”  
“What does that mean, exactly?” Jackson asked, sitting up. The manager wrung his hands some more.  
“It means they will probably come over here at some time this evening to find out what your purpose is, whether you are able to defend yourself, how many guns you have, if you have anything they want...which is pretty much anything. I'm sorry, I would have warned you sooner, but they don't always stop here given the number of parks there are between Wells and Reno it's just bad luck they chose here tonight.”  
“We already ran into them back at Wells,” Abe explained. “They seemed to think they owned the road and everyone should give them right of way.”  
The manager laughed nervously. “Yeah, that's pretty much how it works. Out here we're beyond the reach of the Salt Lake City PD so the gang can do what they want without fear or consequence.”  
Mitch spoke up. “How many people live in this town? Surely there are enough to stand up to them?”  
“Like everywhere, we've had our troubles and those that fled are only just now starting to return.” the man explained.  
“Yeah. It's going to take awhile before things are back to normal,” Jackson muttered.  
“Thank you for the warning. By the way, is there an exit for this park that doesn't go past where the bikers are set up?” Mitch asked. The manager looked at him for a moment then nodded.  
“If you carry on around this access road, there's a maintenance gate, which will be unlocked.”  
“Thank you again,” Mitch reached out and shook the manager's hand, the man giving a tentative smile before turning to continue his rounds, checking on other patrons to the park. When the man was out of earshot, Chloe spoke up.  
“You are thinking we should leave here before the bikers rise in the morning,” she clarified.  
“I do,” Mitch affirmed. “I'll clear it with Allan and Eric, but I think we should be well on the road and a long way ahead before any of them open an eyelid. If we can get to Reno before them, we might have a chance of remaining unmolested. There are too few of us to fight them if they are determined to force us off the road, and I don't fancy being ransacked and then murdered.”  
Together with Jackson and Abe, Mitch went to talk to the foreman and other members of their convoy. If they were going to make a run for Reno, they would all need to push ahead at a faster pace than they had been, otherwise the bikers would simply run them to ground with their faster wheels.  
Jamie stood with Chloe and Dariela, starring after the men. “Guess that means an early night for all of us,” Dariela groused.  
“I wonder how early Mitch considers early enough,” Chloe mused, folding her arms across her chest.  
“Well, looky here, a trio of lovely just waiting for a man to appear!”  
They hadn't heard him approach, the leather-clad, bottle-wielding biker appearing out of the dusk like an apparition. “We're not waiting for anyone,” Dariela spoke up, stepping forward aggressively. The man held up his hands as if in surrender.  
“Okay, fine, I just thought I'd be neighborly and come visiting.” He looked around at the vacant chairs, doing the maths. “So the menfolk have gone off somewhere else?”  
“Again, none of your damn business,” Dariela spat back, her temper rising. The biker laughed, not at all put off by her attitude. Despite his leathers proclaiming his mode of transport, the man wasn't unkempt or dirty, he was just there where he wasn't welcome.  
“Can I offer you ladies a drink?” he asked, waggling the bottle of liquor between his fingers. “I find that helps to lubricate the social niceties.”  
“Our niceties are just fine the way they are, thank you,” Chloe responded, flanking Dariela.  
Suddenly the women were no longer alone, Mitch and the others appearing around the end of the neighboring RV, the biker taking in their expressions and obvious ability to stand up for themselves and held his hands up again in surrender.  
“Wasn't doing any harm, boys. Just talking to the ladies and offering them a sip of the hard stuff.”  
Abe stepped forward, towering over the man, his usually affable expression now stony. “I thank you for your generous offer, but we are quite able to take care of things ourselves. I think I hear your friends calling you back now.” In the half-light, Allan, Eric and another camper appeared, forming a half circle of very capable males in a combined front, the biker taking his cue and backing away, only turning when he was well out of arm's reach, then sauntering off, the bottle upended as he drank the contents.  
Mitch went over to Jamie who stared at him, her eyes luminous in the half-light.  
“Pleased to see me?” he quipped, taking her hand and drawing her into his arms.  
“Very.” Jamie fired back. “I think he was checking to see how well protected we were. Dariela didn't give an inch.”  
“Let's pack up and I'll go and fetch Clem if they're not back by the time we're done.” He turned to start folding up the chairs, Jamie doing the same, missing the loaded look passed between the men before they took their leave to pack up their own gear for an early night.  
Clem and the other children and adults returned to the convoy before the last sliver of sunset vanished from the sky, all of them ready to have something to eat, not complaining at the prospect of an early night. Despite enjoying the playpark, several of the bikers had wandered over and watched the children, not approaching because of the accompanying parents, but still watching as if taking note of how many and what age.  
Mitch pushed back the awning and secured it before taking a last look down the dirt road to where the bikers were still carousing, irrespective of anyone within hearing range. After doing a check of the outside of the Airstream and making sure everything was locked up, he climbed the steps and pulled the door shut, locking it tightly behind him. 

Clem was brushing her teeth, Jamie having told her they were leaving early in the morning. Mitch saw her into bed, letting her read a chapter of her book before putting her light out. Jamie was in the bedroom getting into her night gear, leaving her boots and a coat beside the bed.  
“Just in case,” she explained, brushing past him to go brush her teeth. Mitch tossed up whether he should get undressed at all, but he did get a couple of handguns out of the weapons safe and check them over ready for anything that happened before or after they left in the morning. One he tucked under his pillow, loaded but with the safety on. The other he put into a kitchen drawer, again with the safety on. Clem knew better than to touch a weapon unless in conjunction with her dad, and Jamie was unlikely to handle one without referring to him first. That done, he only took off his boots and socks, remaining dressed so he could react to whatever situation arose. He even left on his glasses, not wanting to fumble for them in the dark in an emergency. Jamie re-entered the bedroom and paused, seeing that he wasn't going to be under the covers with her.  
“Do you think this necessary?” she asked, going around to her side.  
“Just covering all the bases. I don't trust them further than I can throw them...and that isn't far enough.” Through the walls of the RV, they could still hear the music, singing, and laughter from the bike riders camping spot.  
“Do you think they'll keep that up all night?” Jamie asked, sliding into bed and under the covers.  
“I hope so. It'll mean they'll be less likely to rise early, giving us a head start and we'll need every mile we can gain to get to Reno ahead of them.”  
“Mitch? What if....”  
“Try not to worry. If it comes to a fight, we're well supplied with weapons and ammo, thanks to the road-gang battle. They'll find out we're not about to roll over and give up.”  
“God. I hope it doesn't come to that...”  
They came together and wrapped each other in a close embrace.  
“We'll be fine, I promise,” he whispered, his heart wishing for the best while his mind started to cold-bloodedly calculate the odds.


	6. Desert Racing

Mitch couldn't stop himself checking the rearview mirror every few seconds. It was becoming like an annoying tick, his brain refusing to believe they had managed to make a clean getaway from the RV park without rousing the bikers into a vengeful pursuit. They had been on the road for over an hour and it was still dark, the sun another hour away from rising. It had been a relief to get up so early, everyone's sleep fraught and uneasy. The exodus from the park had been orderly and as quick as they could make it. The gate was unlocked, as promised, and the vehicles as quiet as possible, moving slowly over the dirt road, motors barely idling as they drove forward, the Lexus bringing up the rear. On the highway they maintained their stealth mode until they were well clear of the township, then they pushed their speed as high as the slowest campervan could manage for a sustained period, everyone aware that the faster they went, the bigger the gap between them and being overtaken. They also maintained radio silence, not wanting to be overheard by anyone looking for them. If their luck held they would reach Reno before the first biker rose to take a piss and discovered them missing.   
They were half an hour from Reno, just passed the township of Fernley when disaster struck. One of the trailing campervans struck something in the darkness and careened off the road. The convoy slowed to a stop, breaking radio silence to hear that it was Chloe and Dariela's van that had been wrecked. Mitch immediately brought the Audra Two around and headed back to where the accident had happened, joining Jackson's RV on the scene. The headlights picked up the remains of the wrecked van, the wheels still spinning as it lay canted onto its roof, the windows blown out and possessions scattered over the ground. Mitch rushed from his seat into the body of the Airstream to collect his emergency medical kit before heading out of the RV towards the accident scene. Jamie and Clem follwed, standing at the side of the road and holding large torches to help illuminate the interior of the vehicle, while Jackson and Abe joined Mitch.  
Dariela had been driving and was slumped over the wheel, still belted in but unconscious. Chloe the same in the passenger seat. Mitch quickly checked for signs of life and any evidence of damage to necks or spines, putting neck braces on just in case. Abe was ready to tear the door off the driver's side but paused to let Mitch check Dariela and fit the brace, before attempting to lift her out. Other's were quickly on the scene with the two women cut free from their seat belts and carried back to the road to be laid down of blankets and cushions to await further assessment. The van was unrecoverable. Jamie, along with several other women, started to pick up the scattered belongings, discarding those things beyond hope and making a pile of things that could be used again or were of a personal nature, like pictures, clothes and so on. While they did that, Allan and Eric went further back down the road to see what the vehicle had hit, tracing the black tire marks to where Dariela had braked hard. Searching the edges of the road they found the body of a creature that neither man could put a name to. Allan took several photos then walked back to the accident scene.   
Mitch organized improvised stretchers to carry the women to Jackson's RV as that had permanent single beds made up ready to accept them, whereas the Audra Two did not. The women's belongings, those that could be salvaged, were taken aboard another RV and the convoy prepared to resume their race to Reno. A faint light on the horizon further galvanized them to get back underway.   
Jamie and Clem stood by the steps of their RV, Mitch hurrying over to them.   
“I'm going to stay with them. Will you be alright to drive?”  
Jamie nodded. “Of course, you need to do what you can. Keep in touch if you need us to stop.”  
“Will do.” He kissed her then Clem, then jogged away towards Jackson's RV.  
Jamie and Clem climbed back onboard the Airstream and prepared to drive the last stretch to Reno.

The sun was just starting to brighten the sky when they rolled through the last of the rocky cuts and steep painted mountains of the Virginia range on the approach to Reno, the sun lighting up the hillsides with vibrant brushstrokes of light and shadow, orange and gold. After the endless straights of the desert road, it was a pleasure to be winding through the deeply folded slopes and rugged peaks, the road bordered by rock cuttings on one side, the Truckee River on the other. The color palette was the same, but the view infinitely more interesting. With daylight, they could see they were driving high above the river, some of the hills now below them, the vista breathtaking for those that were able to take a moment to enjoy it. The road crested the pass and it was a long drive downhill back to the valley floor, a brief reconnection with the river then the city appeared between two hills, spread out before them, the largest evidence of human population since they'd started their over five hundred mile trek across the Great Basin. They were safe, at least from the bikers. Ahead lay the Sierra Nevada range still to cross, Reno nestled in the foothills, then the California Valley and Coastal Range before reaching the coastal strip and San Francisco, their ultimate goal. What they would find when they arrived was still an unknown. For now, they'd find somewhere to rest and recover before planning the next stage. 

One of the campers had been through Reno in years past and directed the lead RV to a small, family run park situated by the riverside, tucked in near to the side of the city but off the main drag. It was a favorite for permanent residents but due to recent circumstances, the park was now renting some of the homes for refugees or people passing through. There were spaces for the convoy members to park close together with plenty of trees but the entire site was paved, although due to neglect some of the paving was sporting green cracks here and there. Their site was near the back of the park and near to the river running beside it, a grass strip and picnic tables set up beside the walkway on the river bank for those that wanted greenery, the amenities centrally located and even a swimming pool for those keen on an early autumnal/late summer dip. The owners were helpful and Allen negotiated a good price for the few days they'd be staying. The city was only a short distance and seemed to be drawing back a population, as well as having retained at least half of their original people, meaning that services were getting back online with indecent haste. The camp manager boasted they had assorted local tv channels available to watch in the common lounge and even internet access for those with the means to pay for the password. Many of the Westies were keeping their resources for the final destination, so they chose to forego the luxuries and just stuck with enjoying the breather before getting back on the road again. 

Both Chloe and Dariela had come around and, although bruised, sore and mourning the loss of their van, they were alive without broken bones or major internal injuries, thanks to their seatbelts. Their belongings were returned to them and provision made by Jackson and Abe to store their goods and offer them accommodation for the rest of the trip. Neither pair had any complaints about the way things had worked out. Mitch stayed with them and advised them of probable side effects of the crash, and what to watch out for, what not to do, to take it easy, all the usual medical precautions.  
He arrived back at the Audra Two to find the RV all set up and a hot drink awaiting him. After putting away his medical bag he joined Jamie and Clem outside to bask in the morning sun and pass on the news about the two women.   
“They were very lucky,” Jamie said. “Lucky they weren't alone and lucky to have you to look after them.”  
“Lucky they like Jackson and Abe, more like,” Clem added.   
“That too,” Jamie agreed.  
“Just goes to show that seatbelts work when you use them,” Mitch remarked, sipping his coffee.  
Clem soon took off to find her coterie of friends, Mitch and Jamie just enjoying the peace of the park. Soon the quiet was interrupted by Allan and Eric approaching, Mitch finding chairs for them to sit on before resuming his.  
“We thought you'd be interested to see what caused the accident,” Allan remarked, pulling out his mobile phone and flicking it to the pictures he took. “No idea what it is, but I figured you might take a guess.” He passed the phone to Mitch who pulled off his sunglasses and specs to squint at the small images, shading the screen with his hand. He turned the image different ways to change the angle, his forehead lined with the effort of figuring out what it was.   
“Well...it's not anything we've come across so far. Not a Razorback or any sort of derivative of the species. Despite the hair, it looks more reptilian than mammal. Do you mind if I borrow this and download the images?”  
“Please do. There's a couple more after that one, so take what you need.”  
Mitch got up and took the phone into the RV, appearing about fifteen minutes later with the phone and his laptop, the image now displaying full size for everyone to look at. Mitch pointed at several things.  
“See here, it looks like the tail is short and stubby like several types of desert lizards, but the hair is anomalous. If I had to guess, I'd say this was a hybrid cross of a mottled Gila Monster lizard, a Heloderma Suspectum crossed with...something. But I have to say this is way, way bigger than the original animal, I'm aware they can grow up to just under two feet, nose to tail, but this must be...”  
“We reckoned closer to five feet, give or take. Thought it was a crocodile when I first saw it, but that's nuts, in the desert?” Eric glanced at Allan who nodded in agreement.  
“Five feet? That would be a record breaker for this species. Plus it's way out of its usual range. They're more prevalent further south in Arizona, in the Sonora desert,” Mitch explained.  
“But lizards aren't hairy? Are they?” Jamie asked, peering at the obviously hairy remains on the screen.   
“This one certainly is, which may be explained if they crossed the Heloderma with another reptile, one that does have hair...sort of.”  
“Sort of?” Jamie asked. Mitch screwed up his face. “Not hair, in the accepted sense, but there was a paper from Australia that showed that geckos have these microscopic hair-like structures on the skin that captures and kills bacteria. The only way you can see them is under an electron microscope, but they are classified as hair.”  
“Would it not be more likely they crossed a reptile with a mammal?” Eric asked.  
“Well, actually nature already did that in the Platypus and Echidna, in a way, with each animal displaying traits that belong to different mammal and reptile species. But I don't think this qualifies as a Platypus/Gila monster hybrid. For the size, you'd have to throw in a Komodo or something large like a crocodile, but there are no crocodilian traits in this creature other than size,” Mitch told them.  
“I'm guessing you'd need samples to figure this out?” Jamie suggested.  
“Yes. But I'm not going to ask anyone to go back and bring it here for me to examine. It can stay right where it is and scare the shit out of someone else.”  
“Manufactured? Or a natural mutation?” Allan asked, sitting back. “Was it made by man or nature?”  
“Both and neither. No way of knowing without being able to examine its DNA. It will just have to remain a mystery unless we happen to come across another one.”   
“Fair enough.” Allan decided to change the subject. “How are the two women doing? Will they be fit to travel soon?”  
“They'll both be bruised and sore, but no major problems that I can see without x-rays or a cat scan.” Mitch told him. “As for travel, as long as they aren't involved in another accident or required to exert themselves, they're good to go. How long do you expect us to rest up here?” he asked.   
Allan rubbed his chin.“I was thinking a couple of days. It seems safe here, and before we take on the rest of the journey I think some play time, for those that want to, wouldn't go amiss. We're in Reno, after all.” Allan grinned at everyone, the others smiling back.  
“We can spare a couple of days. But tell anyone that wants to venture into the city, they're on their own and we will leave without them if they forget the deadline,” Mitch warned. Allan and Eric nodded their agreement and said they'd pass it on to the others in the convoy.   
A short time later a handful of the campers drove out of the park to explore the city, waving to those that were staying behind. It remained to be seen if they returned. 

Later that day Mitch checked up on his patients, finding them awake and alert, grumbling at the enforced inactivity and wanting to know when they could be up and about. Mitch shrugged.  
“Nothing to stop you getting 'up and about' as you wish, but don't venture outside without someone for company, and each other is not what I mean. Take either Abe or Jackson with you when you go. It's still too early to know what, if any, side effects you may experience, and you don't want to black out suddenly and no one knows where you are.”  
“Fine. Up and out but only with an escort,” Dariela clarified, Mitch nodding his agreement. “For how long?”  
“Week to ten days,” Mitch told her, getting to his feet and preparing to leave. “Just in case.”  
He left his impatient patients to sort things out with their 'escorts', Mitch thinking that having to pair up was probably not as unwelcome as they made it seem, the grumbling more for show than real unhappiness with the arrangement. Heading back he talked to some of the remaining campers, checking that no one had any health-related problems and that those that had been injured in the Razorback attack a week ago were healing well with no complications. As he walked back to the Audra Two he mused on how little time had passed since that fateful morning back at Yellowstone when his daughter brought back her stray, who now was becoming more and more the focus of his thoughts and future plans. As if summoned by his thoughts alone, Jamie appeared in the doorway of the Airstream, welcoming him back with a smile that almost blinded him with its brilliance.   
“Hey,” she greeted him, stepping back into the RV as he climbed the steps, pulling the door shut behind him. It plunged the interior into twilight while their eyes adjusted, Mitch setting his medical bag on the table, his sunglasses following.   
“Hey,” he murmured, reaching for her and drawing her close. They came together, arms wrapped around each other holding each other snuggly, Jamie listening to the steady beat of his heart, his nose buried in her hair before turning his head to lay his cheek there.   
“This is nice,” Jamie whispered, relaxing against him.   
“Isn't it just...” Mitch replied, rubbing his cheek back and forth.  
“Fancy a pre-lunch nap?” she asked, not lifting her head.  
“We were up pretty early this morning...” he replied, loosening his grip and changing it so his arm snaked around her waist instead. “I think a nap is definitely something I'd recommend, from a purely medical point of view.”  
Jamie tilted her head to grin up at him as they made their way to the back of the RV. “And one should already listen to sound medical advice, or so I've been told.”  
Mitch slid the door closed then shut the blinds over the windows on his side, while Jamie did the same over her's. They both stripped down to underwear, Mitch taking his glasses off as well, then pulled the covers back on the bed and lay down, meeting in the middle to repeat what they'd been doing standing up – hugging, this time including legs as well so that as much body surface, even under clothing, was pressed to the other as possible. Jamie moved her head to angle it up towards his but one of his hands came up and firmly pressed her head back to just resting on his shoulder.  
“No kissing,” he stated.  
“No kissing?”  
“Nope. Kissing leads to wanting, and wanting leads to doing and...and it's too soon.”  
“You think I'm still traumatized by...what happened?”  
“I think that...from a purely medical point of view....”  
“Of course.”  
“That you are still healing and that, maybe, you need some time before we do the doing.”  
“Hmmm. I was just thinking that there are other ways than just the usual, to do the doing.”  
“True. I would love to be able to do for you with nothing more than my mouth, for instance.”  
“I would love you to do that too.”  
They lay there, listening to each other breath, Jamie noting that Mitch's heartbeat had picked up.   
“I want to do that,” he stated emphatically.  
“I want you to do that, if you want to?” Her last comment made them both laugh.  
“I so want to.”  
“Good. Then let's do it.”  
They pulled apart enough to be able to look at each other and gauge their feelings visually, not just verbally.   
“Are you sure? I mean, of course you're sure, but if anything causes you to panic, or make you uncomfortable, just tell me....please?”  
Jamie sent him a smoldering look. “I am very sure that nothing you could do would ever cause me to feel uncomfortable. Can we kiss now?”  
“In a minute, I need to do a couple of things first...” He pulled right back and got out of bed, his boxers impressively tented from just talking about it. He padded over to the bedroom door and slid it back, disappearing for a moment while he locked the outside door. Then he was back, sliding the bedroom door and locking that, his dark eyes focusing on her where she lay, the small amount of time he was gone enough for her to remove what little she was wearing and lay on the sheet in sumptuous abandon. Not removing his underwear, he started to move up the bed from the bottom edge, his hands stroking over her feet, up her legs, over her hips until he was poised over her, careful to watch for any adverse reaction to his movements.   
Jamie watched him move up the bed, her eyes never leaving him, his worry for her blended with his love clear in his warm gaze, his body not touching her even as it straddled her.   
“Where would you like me to start?” he asked, his voice rough with anticipation.   
“My feet,” Jamie stated, easing herself further up onto the pillows. Mitch started to reverse back down her body, pressing soft kisses as he went until he was at the end of the bed and picking up one of her feet and placing it to rest on his chest, her leg bending slightly. His hair-roughened skin was warm against her sole, his hands coming up to stroke along her calf and shin, down to her ankle then over her foot, pressing and massaging each toe, bringing her foot up so that he could envelop each dainty digit between his lips, sucking gently and lapping around each one in turn while his thumbs stroked over the underneath, too slow to cause tickling but hard enough to feel wonderful. He repeated the same for the other foot, pressing kisses to the arch before lavishing attention to each toe, his hands cradling the heel and running up the calf in a light massage. Each time his mouth enveloped a toe in that hot interior she felt a shiver of delight goosebump her skin, his thumbs finding nerves and pleasure points along the sole that made her relax into it, happy for him to never stop. When he was done, he lowered her feet to his groin, trapping his cock, still encased in his boxers, between his hand and her foot, rubbing them together in an erotic massage in turn, that made her gasp and her heart start to race. This was a form of playing footsies for adults only.   
Jamie felt so relaxed she let her legs fall open, her trust in him absolute, his hands gently lifting one foot to rest the heel on his shoulder, his hands stroking down her calf to behind her knee and along her thigh, drawing back and repeating in long, massaging patterns that turned her muscles to putty. He repeated the same with the other leg, both feet now on his shoulders, lifting them between massages to kiss the soles and ankles, pressing his tongue between her toes and tickling them, making her giggle but not pull back. He eventually lowered them to the bed, her legs so relaxed they naturally fell apart, hiding nothing from him. He moved forward slowly between her spread legs, his body bent as he kissed and nibbled his way up her legs, his hands petting and stroking, his eyes meeting her slumberous gaze, always checking that she was still okay with what he was doing. When he reached the juncture of her thighs he paused, deciding to approached what came next from above, rather than below.   
“Pass me a couple of pillows,” he asked, Jamie tossing them to him. “Lift up,” he commanded, Jamie doing just that so he could position the pillows below her hips, raising her up like an offering. He knee walked forward and draped her relaxed legs over his spread thighs, opening her further. Leaning forward he started to kiss her torso, over her ribs and belly, dipping into her belly button with his tongue before going lower, his hands bracketing her pelvis while he made love to her abdomen above her thatch of short hairs, kissing the crease where her legs joined her torso on either side, doing his best to ignore the deep purple blooms from finger pressure under her skin, silent testimony of her rough treatment at Logan's hands. He moved back to give himself room and lowered his head, kissing her inner thighs and moving her legs to lay over his shoulder, judging by how limp they still were as to how she was dealing with his lovemaking. He looked up briefly, but she had her eyes closed, her head back in anticipation of what was to come. Take that as his cue, he used his tongue and lips to tease her nether hairs, drawing them between his lips and tugging as he passed over them to reach the plump flesh below. Her scent was rich and musky, sending a bolt of desire to his already rampant cock, the beasty making a wet patch on his underwear despite the unlikelihood of it having a chance to play this time. Ignoring his body, he dipped his tongue into the flesh between her legs, finding it hot and moist, sweet and slippery. Employing his oral fixation with a will, he made love to her body, her flesh, her hips and lips telling him she was as into it as he was, her fingers briefly fisting in his hair before stroking over his head as he worked, her body unable to keep still under his ministrations.  
Words tumbled from her mouth in an almost endless litany, telling him what to keep doing, how fucking great he was, how she never wanted him to stop, how fucking fantastic his mouth was, what a talented tongue he had. As he lapped and suckled, kissed and tongued, the words devolved into sounds and cries that made his dick twitch and leak even worse, her body in constant motion despite his light grip on her hips. At length she gave a great shudder and cried out his name as well as praise for a number of deities, her body flushing pink and shivering as she rode out her climax, his lips and tongue soothing her body, lapping up the sweat and nectar until she stopped moving entirely, her panting breaths and twitching muscles his reward for a job well done. Carefully he laid her boneless legs on the covers and removed himself from between her legs, coming to lay beside her after wiping himself off, her unique scent left behind to tease him every time he breathed in.   
Jamie lay for a long time enjoying the feeling of lassitude that a good session of cunnilingus by a talented man taking his time could produce. There was simply nothing like it. Humming deep in her throat she opened her eyes and turned her head to smile at him. Mitch bathed in that smile and grinned back, so self-satisfied and smug she laughed to see it.   
“You should be proud,” she purred. “Never, ever, doubt that if your dick ever stops working you can't satisfy a woman.”  
Mitch looked at her in surprise, then let out a shout of laughter. “I'll bear that in mind...if my dick stops working, that is.” He regarded her fondly. “You okay?”  
Jamie reached up to stretch, her body twisting towards him in a languid move. “Better than good.” She stopped stretching and turned on her side to look at him. “Don't get me wrong, I love your cock, it's wonderful....but that talented tongue of yours...that's just divine.”  
He loved the way she wasn't shy or stinting with her praise. “My tongue thanks you.” He smiled.  
“Hey,” she said.  
“What?”  
“Why don't you jack off for me?”  
His eyebrows indicated his surprise, but he nodded. “Okay. It would be better if you helped me jack off, you do this twisty thing...” he waggled his fingers, making her giggle.   
“Alright. I'll help.”  
He shucked his shorts and lay on his back, his sex laying stiff and hard against his belly. Jamie sat up and straddled his thighs, the wetness and heat still between her legs smearing itself over him liberally. In case he wasn't leaking enough lubricant already, she reached her fingers between her thighs, lifting herself up a little so he could see everything she did. Coating her fingers in her own fluids, she smeared his cock while lifting it upright and starting to use both hands on him, spreading his precum over the head and down the shaft, moving herself forward so that his balls were nestled up against her mons. Mitch lay back against the pillows and watched her work his flesh, his heart rate already racing, his mouth open as he panted, her heat and touch sending him flying.  
“God, you are so good at that,” he moaned, flexing his hips to push himself into her hands. She used one hand to retrieve more of her own body's moisture, her curls slick with it, her fingers slippery and smooth, stroking up and down and doing that twist that sent him mad. She started to rock against him, pulling his cock up to rest against her abdomen, massaging it against her belly and coating her skin until it was shiny and wet.   
“Oh. God. I'm so close,” he groaned, fisting his hands in the pillows beside his head, arching his back to push himself upwards, her hands gripping him tightly and boldly, sliding and twisting until he gave a shout and his body convulsed, sending out spurts of white fluid to coat her busy fingers, and mix with their tangled hair, Jamie smoothing it over where it landed on his belly and hers. Mitch swore to himself he saw stars, his brain buzzing and heart racing in the aftermath of a fucking wonderful hand job. When his cock softened Jamie leaned down, plastering their bodies together, before slipping to the side and cuddling up beside him.   
“Well, that was fun.”  
“I'm dead...you killed me...” Mitch whispered, belying that statement with the width of his grin.   
“I think you'll live to fuck another day,” Jamie whispered back, pressing a kiss to his sweaty neck.  
Sometime later, after pulling a sheet up over them, Mitch roused himself enough to look down at the woman tucked into his side. Despite all she'd been through, all the pain and hurt in the past and in the present, she still had it in her to be generous and trusting. She said she loved him, and he believed her. It was in her eyes, her lips, her fucking sexy body and it made him want to slay all the dragons for her. She made him feel so good, both in what they did together, but more importantly about himself. She wouldn't let him hide in the shadows but pulled him into the light, telling him what she wanted, not expecting him to guess, showing him her appreciation without expecting anything but that he take it on board and believe it. He loved the way she talked when they were private, not keeping anything back, treating him and expecting to be treated back as an equal. It was heady stuff and opened up a freedom he'd never experience before. He could say anything to her, talk about anything and she'd listen then give it back in like fashion, no coy suggestions or obtuse references, she said what she said and she meant it. Which brought him back to what he was feeling right now, looking down at her breathing evenly, deeply asleep, trusting him and letting him know he could trust her. This was a level of love that he only now realized was something rare, something to treasure and nourish, a chance to be far more than he ever thought he could be and to know she was the same back to him. He tried to verbalize what it was but he didn't have words, only an overwhelming feeling that transcended anything he'd felt for anyone before. He loved her.

A soft tapping roused him from his doze a little while later. Jamie was still asleep so he carefully got off the bed and pulled on his jeans before unlocking the bedroom slider and going to the outside door and opening it.   
“Mitch, we have a problem.”

The remaining Westies, which now numbered the occupants of only four large RV's and two smaller camper vans, not including the Lexus, were grouped around two of the picnic tables down on the river bank, having pulled one over to make seating for the adults. The kids were going to try out the pool and were off like a shot, one of the older teens in charge.  
“So you're saying the four that left this morning are not coming back?” Mitch asked to clarify what he'd been told.   
“Apparently they'd already made their minds up before we reached Reno. A couple were friends with the parents of those boys, they might have even arranged to meet up with them at a later date, I don't know,” Allan explained, several others adding observations of a similar note.   
“Can we make the crossing with just six? And do we keep the car?” Eric asked.  
“We can make the crossing, no reason why not, it just means we're that much more vulnerable if we run into trouble,” Mitch replied, resting his elbows on the tabletop. “But I don't think we should let that stop us, unless any of you now want to stay here?” He watched as, to a man and woman, they shook their heads. “So that's agreed, we push on with what we have.”  
“I vote we keep the car, it can still be used as a scout,” Dariela suggested, several nodding in agreement. “I think two minimum so that one can be shotgun...literally if needed.”  
“I agree. Apart from Mitch's RV, it's the most heavily armored of our remaining vehicles, and the fastest.” Allan looked around the group, seeing the determination to complete the journey they started so many days ago. “As the other's aren't coming back, there's no need to wait for them or put off continuing our journey. Anyone say otherwise?”  
The group exchanged looks between them, but nobody spoke against him.  
“Then we leave tomorrow.”

Jamie and Mitch wandered over to the pool area, the sounds of the kids enjoying the late afternoon sun and splashing about was a lovely sound, a sound you expected to hear when you mix kids with a pool. More than anything it was the sound of normal, of safety, something a lot of the kids hadn't had in recent years. To hear them now was a further incentive to get them to somewhere they could put down roots and start to live a normal life again.   
“What does Clem want to be?” Jamie asked. They were sitting on a bench on the other side of the fence just watching the kids lark about and have fun. Mitch turned to look at her profile.   
“When she grows up? I don't honestly know. I think all thoughts like those kinda went by the wayside when everything went to hell. Just living until the next day was enough. Now, well I'm hoping, and this is just me, but I'm hoping we can settle near a good school that will start up again soon and then we can make some sort of plan for the future. I'll get a job, she'll go to school...” He stopped, his brows pulling together.  
“What will I do, Mitch?”  
He looked at her, his brow clearing. “Anything the hell you want to. I think it's safe to say that anything you want to turn your hand to will be hiring, at least that's what I've heard.”  
Jamie looked back at him, smiling. “I think I'd like to write a book.”  
Mitch returned her smile. “Then you go ahead and write a book. Dibs on a signed copy when it's published.”  
They laughed, Jamie tilting her head towards him. “Talk about get ahead of ourselves.”  
Clem and some of the others had had enough and were starting to dry themselves off and wrap towels around them. Mitch and Jamie accompanied the noisy, damp group back to the convoy, the kids dispersing to their various vehicles until only Clem was left.   
“I'm going to take a quick shower,” she announced, darting into the RV.  
“We'll have something to eat when you get out!” Mitch called after her, turning around and joining Jamie in the chairs under the awning.   
“It's so peaceful here,” she remarked, the sun going down making the surface of the river sparkle as it rushed past.   
“Apparently it's not usually so peaceful. One of the residents mentioned that the runway for the airport is not far from here which means you get the planes landing and taking off all through the day and sometimes into the night. Not so much now, just a few small planes take flights once or twice a week.”  
“I guess there's still a shortage of aviation gas. Otherwise, it would certainly make it a plane-spotters paradise under normal circumstances.”  
“Good point, one man's paradise is another man's horror holiday.”  
Clem appeared in the doorway, freshly showered and dressed. “I'm starved, what's to eat?”

As the final leg of the trip to San Francisco was slated to take less than four hours, door to door, they didn't have to leave at the crack of dawn, so breakfast was a leisurely affair followed by the final packing up. The kids raced about before being chivvied into the RV's then Allan drove out of the campground, his greatly reduced string of Westies behind him, Lexus in the rear.  
They would get back onto the interstate eighty west and follow that through to the coast, the alternative route through Carson City and past Lake Tahoe tacking another hour on to the trip. Instead, they'd be passing through the Tahoe National Forest for the first eighty miles which, if the weather packed in, would make that stretch of the road challenging. It was already raining when they left the campgrounds, but that couldn't dampen the excitement of almost achieving their goal but for a few hours of travel.   
As they cleared the outskirts of Reno it was exciting to see a dusting of snow whiten the peaks of the foothills in front of them, the road steadily climbing and traffic very light. As they cleared the last of the houses at Lawton they let the Lexus pass them and zoom off ahead, Eric taking a turn as the driver of the car, with another man, Adam, as his shotgun and spotter.   
When they crossed the Truckee River they could see that snow now dusted most of the high peaks and ridges a sign on the side of the road causing Clem to ask the question. “Do we have chains?”  
Mitch glanced over at his daughter. “We do, standard equipment if you intend to drive through mountain ranges.”  
“Would everyone else have them?” she asked. Mitch gave her a thoughtful look. He lifted the CB transceiver. “This is the Audra Two, anyone got their ears on? Over?”  
“What's up, Audra Two? Over.”  
“Everyone got chains for their wheels? Over.”  
All the larger RV's gave an affirmative, part of their standard equipment, but the campervans didn't, neither did Jamie's Lexus.   
“We need to make a pitstop then. Over.”  
Allan agreed and instructed the Lexus to look out for signage for local businesses who supplied them. As they got further into the mountain range there were sure to be some.  
“Will do, Leader, Lexus out!”  
Mitch hung up the mike and shot Clem a grin. “Kudos, Clem for bringing that up.”  
Clem wriggled like a puppy in her seat, basking in his praise. 

The Lexus soon called back that they'd seen advertising for a local business just off the interstate. The convoy pulled off the main road and down the off ramp, the car waiting for them at the intersection. A little way along they came to the business, the shop clearly shut up or abandoned, the windows broken by people doing exactly what they were – looking for chains for their vehicles before attempting the pass. After a brief rummage they found what they needed for the smaller campervans and the car, packing them away, as well as looking out the chains for the larger vehicles so they were handy if needed. It wasn't a given that they'd need them, but if the rain turned to snow higher up they could be glad of them. The real winter snows wouldn't hit until later, but the weather could be fickle and dump an unseasonal load of snow when you least expected it, making travel hazardous. It was better to be prepared.   
They crossed the Nevada/California state line, all the vehicles tooting their horns in celebration, despite the perpetual drizzle, a direct contrast to what the name California normally brought to mind, like blue oceans and white sands, hot days and hotter nights.   
The road was running through a series of canyons, all following the flow of the Truckee River beside it, the numerous signs warning of rock falls borne out when several bounced down a slope, missed the wire fence put there to catch them and proceeded to litter the road. The Lexus sent back a message to warn of the debris on the road and the possibility of falling rocks, everyone spacing apart a bit more to give them room to move around the already fallen rocks and dodge any they saw coming down. The RV in front of Mitch was plain unlucky. They were negotiating the road, keeping a steady if slow speed, when a shower of rocks started to roll and bounce down the steep slope on the right of the road, several went through, between the campervans, but one or two hit the vehicle side on, even the Airstream getting a couple of hits of smaller boulders, leaving dents in the metalwork. When they were all passed the danger area they pulled over to inspect the damage.   
Finding nothing worse than scratched paint and dented metal, they piled back in and carried on, the car in front warning them of any further signs of rockfalls. Given they were driving through a seismically active area from Reno to the coast, rockfalls were an expected hazard.  
They encountered several more dodgy areas of steep, rocky slopes, most of the debris being shed making heaps at the side of the road, only rarely did it extend into the lanes themselves and constitute a hazard. Water from the steady rain was starting to form mini-waterfalls down the rock faces, spreading gravel and dirt across the road making it more dangerous and slippery, the convoy slowing down as the cloud layer lowered, the snowy peaks disappearing and the road surface becoming more treacherous. Despite it being the middle of the day they put their headlights on, the lights of the Lexus visible up ahead, the car not venturing out of sight of the other vehicles.  
They were driving alongside Donner Lake, the small townships around it largely uninhabited, the business of skiing and winter sports abandoned like everything else in past years. Access to the slopes above Lake Tahoe and in surrounding peaks was dangerous with several winters worth of damage to roads and slopes from ice and avalanche, spring thaw and floods, keeping most travelers away. As inspection of the roads would be low on most peoples priority lists, they would stay that way for some time to come. Just keeping the main arteries of the state highways open was already proving difficult with the lack of manpower and machinery available. Mitch cast a fleeting glance up at the distant peaks, glad that the interstate took the lower route through the mountains, the prospect of crossing the summit, despite the small amount of snow dusting the slopes, was daunting in the best of weather.   
They had been climbing steadily, passing Donner Lake, glimpsed only briefly, while across the valley they could see the Donna summit road winding around the hills wreathed in low cloud and mist. Beside the interstate the towering scree slopes disgorged a steady stream of water over the road along with accompanying gravel and rocks making the going slow, the convoy gathering a tail of other vehicles traveling the same way, among them a truck, tanker and some cars. With visibility getting worse by the minutes, they had to slow or risk hitting something bigger than axle height clearance could manage. On the approach to Soda Springs, below the Boreal Ridge Ski park, they came up against a barrier that couldn't be driven through. Trees had been bordering the road almost the entire trip, tall pins with straight trunks, clinging to slopes and rocks as only alpine forests do. Now, the interstate, all three lanes, was covered in one particular area with numerous sizeable trees felled from both sides so they stretched from edge to edge, effectively blocking anything from getting through to the west. Eric, in the Lexus, had warned them a mile back that it was coming up, but it was still a sight, the convoy and the few vehicles in the tail, pulling up to peer through streaming windscreens at the mass of wood and greenery littering the road. The RV's pulled up beside each other, their headlights piercing the gloom of the constant drizzle, the hills either side still wreathed in mist, casting a pall over everything.   
“I'll go and investigate,” Mitch announced, getting out of his seat and starting to rummage for wet weather gear under the bench seats.   
“I'm coming with you!” Clem announced, unclipping her seat belt. Mitch opened his mouth to deny her, but then closed it. He looked at Jamie.   
“I'll stay behind the hold the fort,” she answered his silent plea. Mitch tossed Clem a slicker and they geared up, both taking torches, Mitch including a handgun, before leaving the Airstream to investigate the mess up ahead. Soon a small crowd had gathered on the road, some with umbrellas. They surveyed the sizable trees with something akin to wonder.   
“Could it have been a tornado?” someone asked, but the theory was quickly shot down because there was simply no evidence of the debris associated with strong winds, and the trees weren't snapped off at the base, they looked like they'd been chewed.  
“You mean beavers did this?” the truck driver asked, his voice shrill with disbelief, a sentiment shared by others.   
“If it was, they weren't alone,” Jackson muttered in an aside to Abe, that Mitch overheard. “They, or something like them, may have cut the trees but look at the drag marks, and the sheer size and weight are far beyond the size of the creature to move without water,” Jackson pointed out.   
The curious were walking past the initial barrier and marveling at the way the trees seemed to be laid in such a way to allow for people and animals to weave a path through them, but nothing bigger than a motorcycle would be able to get through the maze of trunks and treetops.   
“It's like it was done deliberately,” someone pointed out. Mitch swept his torchlight over the ground, noting that there was evidence that several motorcycles had already passed between the trees, boot prints visible where they were put down to help steady the bikes around the narrow space. There were also other prints, purely animal in origin, that were clearly visible in the mud and detritus scattered over the road surface. Some of the prints seemed to be the pad prints of predators, possibly bears or cougars, even wolves, but others were of hoofed animals, likely deer or elk, some very big and worrying. The extent of the blockage meant there was no way, without heavy machinery that the convoy or the hangers-on were going to get past it. Having reached the other side, they saw the road was clear, except for water and washed down rocks. Mitch tried to picture in his mind the pattern of the trees cut down, his brain coming up with an answer he wasn't happy about. Even as he went to offer his theory they heard the sudden honk of a car horn, followed in quick succession by others, then the sound of shots fired.   
“Clem, you stay behind me!” Mitch ordered, he and the others starting to run as they went back through the maze of tree trunks, the vehicles they'd left hidden behind the mass of tree branches between them. The car horns had gone silent, so had the gunfire when the men rounded the last of the downed trees to find themselves confronted by a row of men holding their loved ones captive, keeping them kneeling on the roadway with weapons pointed at the back of their heads.   
Mitch, along with the others skidded to a halt, Clem shoved to the back of the men, her identity hidden until she was pushed into the closest fallen tree to hide her. From there she watched as her father, flanked by his two friends, approached the line of kneeling people, Jamie, Dariela, and Chloe among them.   
The hostage-takers were dressed in dark or camouflaged clothing, a quick head count putting them at around twenty give or take. There was no evidence of vehicles so it was assumed they had been waiting amongst the treeline to ambush anyone caught by the barricade. Each carried a weapon, not necessarily a gun, some looking homemade but just a lethal despite that. They had grouped the woman together, making them kneel on the wet road, none of them in wet weather gear, all of them soaked to the bone, their hands on their heads. What men had stayed behind were grouped against the rock wall at the side of the road, their hands on their head, backs to attackers. All the vehicles were left with their doors open, driver and passenger side both, obviously searched for anyone hiding. Seeing no children, Mitch assumed they were held in one of the vehicles under guard or had somehow escaped. The former was more likely.   
With Abe, Allan and Jackson, Mitch took a step forward.   
“What do you want?” he asked. His gun was still in his pocket, a resource to be used as a last resort.   
The ragged bunch of attackers all laughed at him. One took a step forward.  
“We don't want anything. We have everything, so why don't you boys step forward, surrender any weapons you have and go stand over with the others,” he ordered, grinning.   
“And if we don't?” Mitch asked, his voice steady. The men all laughed again, the one doing the talking walking down the line of kneeling woman, looking at them. They all avoided eye contact with him, except Dariela who glared at the man with open hostility. Like a striking snake, he grabbed her hair and yanked her forward, Dariela letting out a cry and throwing her hands out to break her fall, then reaching up to scratch at the gloved hands holding her hair tightly.   
“If you don't, we start culling the herd, starting with this one who doesn't seem to understand when to be meek and surrender!” He twisted his fist and Dariela yelled, cursing him in several languages as he held her up, with her knees just off the road surface, by her hair.   
Abe made to move forward, but Jackson gripped his arm and held him back. “Save it for a better opportunity,” he hissed, the big man shooting his friend a look before relaxing his fists and lowering his shoulders.   
Mitch held up his hands, the men around him slowly following suit. Clem pushed herself further back into the greenery so that when the men moved, she was completely invisible.   
“Throw out your weapons!” the man called out, twisting Dariela's hair for effect. A couple of handguns, Mitch's included, and a few knives were thrown onto the road. The leader indicated for the men to join the others up against the roadside, Dariela finally released from the leader's grip. Jamie glanced up as the men passed, catching Mitch's eye as he walked past her, a twitch of his eyebrow indicating where Clem was hiding. Jamie looked but couldn't see the girl, much to her relief. With the rest of the men now all together, the leader conferred with the some of his group, a brief conversation taking place between three of them, their backs to the women. Chloe watched the mouth of one of the men turned towards them and caught some of what he said through lip reading.  
“Oh, my God, they are going to kill the men and take us and the children with them!”  
“No!” Jamie and several of the other women cried out in horror. Jamie let her hands fall and got up, the women around her doing the same. Their guards started to shout at them to get back on their knees, shoving the women about, but none of them would obey, the three leaders turning around at the sounds of disruption.   
“What the fuck? Get those women down on their knees!”  
“You're going to kill our men,” Chloe stated, her voice strong and clear. “You do that and you won't be able to sleep without fear that one of us will slit your throat if you do this thing.” Dariela took over from her.  
“You'll have to test everything you eat or drink, not knowing if this is when it will be poisoned, or drugged.”  
Jamie stepped forward. “Harm any of our men and we will fight you and make your lives a living hell. You can beat us, whatever you think will keep us in line, but it won't stop us taking revenge for what you are planning on doing right now.”  
The other women stepped closer, their stand with the three outspoken women clearly stated. Jamie spoke again. “Whatever benefit you think this hold up will bring you, in the long run it will be the survivors that will have the final say! They won't be you.”  
The leader laughed at her bravado, his co-leaders with him, but it wasn't taken up by the others, the men looking distinctly uneasy, backing away from the women despite them being unarmed. Seeing the wariness in his men's eyes, the leader stepped over to where Jamie stood and backhanded her, her head snapping back from the blow, the force sending her to the flooded road. Chloe and another woman helped her to her feet where she stood, facing the leader, her lip bloody, but her expression defiant.   
“You think that will work?” Jamie shouted, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand. “Fuck you, asshole. You have to sleep sometime, and you can't watch us all the time. Whatever you think you've gained with this holdup, it'll be the last time you gain anything worth having.”  
The leader stepped up to her, his fist raised to deal another blow but an unearthly howl, quickly taken up by others filled the wet air, the sound echoing around the rocks, the mist still swirling among the trees suddenly full of shadows that moved.   
The men guarding Mitch and the others started to pull back, walking backward to where their comrades stood looking in all directions to see where the noise was coming from. The three leaders were doing the same, ignoring the women and the men they'd captured, a situation quickly turned to the benefit of the captives. Dariela leapt on the back of the nearest man, biting his ear savagely and raking his face with her nails. Chloe kicked out and caught another man in the crotch, her adversary folding and falling on the road, howling himself. Jamie grabbed the fallen man's metal weapon, swinging it at the leader, his quick reactions saving him from having his head knocked off, Jamie coming at him again, his fist catching her on her jaw and dropping her, out cold before she felt the road rush up to meet her. It was enough of a distraction for the captive men to fall on the attackers, fear, rage, and adrenaline giving them the advantage, quickly downing several of the guards and taking their weapons as well as retrieving their own. The fight turned into a melee, the rain never ceasing its constant drizzle, making the ground slippery with mud and gravel, the attackers retreating as the fight became more even with weapons on both sides, guns held by the attackers found to be empty of ammunition.   
Clem ran out from her hiding place and tried to drag Jamie over to the Airstream, the unconscious woman, however slight, still a challenge for the youngster. It was turning into a slug-fest, Abe banging heads together, while Mitch and one of the truckers used whatever came to hand to fight the leaders, everyone pitching in to drive the marauders back.   
One of the attackers broke from the battling crowd and sprinted down the road. He got no further than the last campervan before something hurtled out of the misty trees and pounced on him, his scream causing everyone to freeze and stare down the road where a hulking great beast made short work of the unfortunate coward, the sound of crunching bones making even the strongest man wince. When the creature lifted its head, the people closest suddenly bolted for the nearest vehicle, regardless of whether they were attacker or attacked, doors suddenly slamming as everyone rushed to get inside away from the creature dripping blood from its jaws. Mitch helped Clem get Jamie onboard the airstream, several other campers joining them, including two of the attackers, the door shutting moments before more of the animals appeared out of the mist. Mitch raced to the front of the RV and shut the passenger door, then the driver, his glasses fogging up in the warmer interior until he had to remove them to be able to see anything.  
“Dad!” Clem's shrill cry drew him back to the body of the RV, his daughter clutching Jamie to her chest, the adults standing around her, crowding the girl and her burden. Mitch pushed them aside and crouched down. Jamie was starting to recover from the punch, blinking up at him in confusion.   
Everyone and everything were wringing wet. The two groups trying to back away from each other, but not having the room. Mitch stood up.   
“Look! We don't have time to be on separate sides. Those things out there won't care if you're a victim or an aggressor, you all taste the same. Clem is going to hand out towels, so dry off as best you can and find a seat, leave the weapons and wet gear on the floor, we'll find somewhere for it later.” He glared around at the men and women occupying the space, several of them nodding. Clem started to pull out towels from one of the cupboards, dumping them on the dining table for people to help themselves. Jamie was slowly helped to her feet, Mitch supporting her as he steered her down to the bedroom at the back. There he sat her on the edge of the bed before kneeling down to pull off her boots, then jeans after divesting her of her sweatshirt and soaked t-shirt. Before she could get cold, he used the bed cover to dry her hair and arms, then bundled her into dry clothes. Once she was seen to, he did the same for himself, changing in record time, the wet clothes shoved into a corner to be dealt with later.   
Jamie was carefully touching where the fist had connected with her face, her jawline already heavily swollen, adding to the injury sustained when she was backhanded on the other side of her face. Her eye on that side was starting to swell, making it difficult to see out. Her lips felt three times their usual size and her head seemed to be inflating like a balloon.  
“Mitch?” she managed to articulate, despite her bruised mouth and jaw.  
“I need to get you something for the pain, and a cold pack for your face. Scoot back on the bed and I'll get you comfortable first.”  
Jamie thought he was sweet to think he could make her remotely comfortable with her face swollen and throbbing, but she let him try, relaxing back into the pillows gratefully while he went to find something medicinal to help. He was back in a moment with an icepack and a liquid painkiller, the latter downed without protest, the ice applied but not without a whispered litany of swear words until it numbed the swelling. Clem entered the bedroom and climbed on the bed to keep Jamie company, Mitch leaving them both to recover from their ordeals. After shutting the sliding door behind him, Mitch approached the group of people sheltering in his RV. A truce had been called between the aggressors and everyone else, the two men standing uneasily near the front cab, while everyone else sat on the available seating. Mitch went to the front of the RV to peer out at the windscreen for any sign of what was happening outside.  
“Have you seen those creatures before?” he asked the attackers, both men exchanging a glance before answering.  
“No this far south before,” the older one said. The rain was still trickling down the windows, which were now steaming up with all the people on board, making any outside observations useless.   
“How many did you see before?” Mitch asked, rubbing at the steamy windows but still not seeing anything.   
“Last time we came across these creatures they were in a pack of about fifteen, running and sounding like an ordinary fucking wolf, but when you got close enough, you could see they had this leathery kind of armour over their chests, around their necks, ears, snout, even patches down their legs. We tried to shoot them but the bullets either didn't penetrate the hide or bounced off. Damndest thing I've ever seen. We lost three good men that day, now another one today.” The man paused, running a hand through his wet hair. He looked up, straight at Mitch. “And the worst part? They aren't afraid of us.”  
“What the fuck did you hope to achieve with this little stunt, huh?!” one of the campers shouted, nerves and tolerance shredded by events. “All we have is in our vehicles, do they look luxurious?”  
“We needed somewhere to live,” the older man mumbled.  
Mitch regarded him closely. “You and the others didn't put those trees on the road, did you?”  
The man shook his head. “We just found them like that.”  
One of the campers spoke up again. “So it wasn't your trap, it was theirs?” she pointed to the outside, meaning the creatures. This time the attacker nodded and shrugged.  
“Seemed like an easy way to get what we wanted. Our place up in the hills was demolished and made unusable a couple of days ago, we've been on the move since then. We came up against this barrier and thought we'd use it, get a sweet ride from whoever else was stopped.”  
“And for that, you'd have killed my husband?” one woman asked, voice laced with disgust. Both the attackers looked shamefaced.  
“There wasn't going to be any killing,” the younger man spoke up. “We used up our ammunition day before yesterday hunting for meat. Our cache of stuff was buried under the cabin.”  
“Who's your leader?” Mitch asked. The men exchanged an uneasy glance.   
“Our original leader was killed in the cabin collapse. Terry, Wilt, and Silus took over after Bill died. They seemed to have a plan.”  
Mitch rubbed at his forehead. “I suppose you could call hijacking, murder and kidnapping a plan.”   
The older man looked suitably abashed. “It wasn't supposed to go down like that.”  
One of the Westies spoke up. “I didn't see anyone denying they were going to kill us.” Other voices spoke up in anger, the noise filling the RV. Mitch waved everyone down.  
“Look. We have to come up with something and quick. We can't go outside. I haven't seen the creatures out there, but I'm betting they are just waiting for the food to appear so they can attack, which means we have to drive out of here – everyone included. Believe me, I'm no more happy about that choice than anyone else. I'm going to get on the CB and see what's happening in the other RV's.”  
Mitch went and climbed into the driver's seat, snatching up the transceiver. “Mitch to anyone with ears on, over.”  
The CB came alive with all the remaining RV's coming online. “Listen, I need a sitrep on how everyone is. Anyone injured enough to need a doctor? Over.”  
The replies largely came back in the negative, a few had bumps and bruising, black eyes and loose teeth, but no broken bones or anything needing stitches.   
“Good. Is there an owner/driver in each of the RV's? Over?”  
The answer came back in the affirmative. Mitch continued. “Then we need to get these vehicles turned around and start getting out of here. If you have people from other than the convoy they'll have to be dropped off to collect their own vehicles as we go back. Over.”  
He listened as people listed who was onboard, the RV containing the children now having a couple of adults on board to take charge. Someone asked the question on everyone's minds.  
“Where did the creatures go? Can anyone see them? Over.”  
All the replies over the radio affirmed there were no more sighting after the first horrific killing of the lone attacker.   
“Alright. So it's likely they're waiting for an easy meal. Don't give them that. Get as close to the other vehicles as you can before you drop off the driver. We'll have to backtrack until we can cross over to the eastbound side....” Mitch was stopped by the older attacker.   
“No good. Road washed out a few miles ahead. Don't think the things out there did it, but you never know.” Mitch chewed his lip as he thought.   
“Okay, change of plan. Apparently, the eastbound is impassable as well. We need a new route. Over.”  
After some dispute over possible by-pass options, it was decided that the Donner Pass Road, also known as Highway forty was their best chance of getting past the barricade and out of the area of the creatures. It was risky with the weather being what it was, it would take time but it would bring them out at Soda Springs and back on the interstate. One of the leaders got on the CB and asked that he and his men be taken to their vehicles, which were hidden back down the road, a collection of four-wheel drives and off-road bikes. It was agreed, a truce called while they got out of the situation they were in with the hybrid creatures.   
After checking on Jamie and Clem, the other women in the group now with them as well, Mitch got into the driver's seat and prepared to back the RV up and turn it around. Outside, the other vehicles were preparing to do the same. Once they were moving Mitch cranked up the heating to dry everyone out, and clear the windscreen. One by one the Westies followed the Audra Two, trailing in a long line, stopping only to drop off the drivers to the Lexus, the long-haul truck, the tanker, and two cars that were part of the tail and traveling together. The remains of the unfortunate attacker were gone, carried off to be consumed, the blood already washed away by the rain. They saw no evidence that the creatures were still around, but no one was keen to test that by going outside to investigate. Soon they reached a turn off where they could deposit their former attackers, who quickly uncovered their camouflaged vehicles and climbed aboard. They had already stated they wouldn't be following the convoy over the pass, preferring to do something else. Whatever that was, they were keeping it to themselves. With the threat of the creatures, it was unlikely they'd be able to set up another ambush for unsuspecting travelers. Mitch had to ignore the moral imperative and tell himself it wasn't his circus, not his monkey's. He had enough on his plate with getting the convoy over the pass and back onto the interstate. The plan was to refuel at the Donner Lake Village then proceed from there. They had no idea of the condition of the road and could only hope it was passable, no one hazarding a guess as to how long it would take to get all the vehicles up the east side, reputed to be steep and winding. As a further precaution, the Lexus, together with the other two cars from the tail, would go on ahead to radio back any obstacles or difficult areas to the convoy. If highway forty ultimately turned out to be impassable, then all their efforts to date would be for nothing and they'd have to turn back and find another way over the mountains.   
For now, they just had to get back to the lake and regroup, refuel and prepare before attempting the trip over the pass. So much for that easy day trip to San Francisco.


	7. Mountain Climbing

The convoy of Westies and their new companions, the Tails were strung out like beads on the steep, winding eastern approach to the summit. The road itself was in good repair, only a few stretches showing the tarmac cracking, indicative of needing attention. On the right-hand side huge, rounded boulder fields dotted with trees stretched up to the sky, while on the left side the scenery fell away down greenery covered slopes to Lake Donner far below. In some places there had been slips on the downward side, but not enough to compromise the road's safety, only losing the metal barrier fence for a few feet. As they climbed, the clouds came down to meet them, cutting off the views and shrouding the vehicles in a strange light plus limiting visibility ahead. The highway looped and turned back on itself, blind corners around rocky buttes, always the signs warning of slips or rock falls, heightening the tension of what they'd find around the next corner and always climbing. Around one such corner, they suddenly saw a bridge, the Rainbow Bridge, wreathed in mist, up ahead. The road switched back on itself so that they were now looking down the valley to a lake as they crossed over, a break in the clouds giving a glimpse of the grey expanse of water known as Angela Lake in the distance. Beyond the bridge the road narrowed as they passed between sheer rock faces and reached the summit, a collection of buildings, part of the Sugar Bowl ski academy, had a large parking area allowing the vehicles to stop and cool down after the steep, slow climb to the top. The rain had turned to icy sleet, a strong wind whipping the ice crystals through the air, stinging the skin of anyone who ventured outside. While they waited for the last vehicle to complete it's long grind up to the carpark, Mitch visited each RV and campervan, checking on injuries and health concerns, passing out painkillers and plasters if not already supplied by the owner's first aid kits. He had just finished his last check and was starting to make his way back, using the vehicles to act as windbreaks, the cold nipping at his nose and fingers, the wind stealing his breath. Back at the Audra Two, he was relieved to step into its warm interior, Clem greeting him with a hot drink. Sipping the steaming coffee, he made his way to the bedroom to check his last patient, Jamie. She was sitting up, awake and aware despite her distorted features from the bruising.   
“Hey, how's the pain?” he asked, sitting on the side of the bed and peering at her poor abused face.  
“I look a fright,” she slurred, her sore jawline making it difficult to enunciate. Mitch smiled.   
“Not even close. I'm going to remove those stitches from your scalp, so if you just lean forward, it'll be over in a second or two.”  
Thankful to be rid of the itchy stitches, Jamie leaned forward and kept still as Mitch snipped and pulled out the threads, pleased with how well the wound had healed. Jamie felt as if her face was one enormous throbbing pumpkin, her teeth and gums aching as much as her tight cheek and swollen lips. Everything felt as it is was three times its normal size, both her cheeks tender – one from the punch, the other from hitting the ground - and her eye almost swollen shut. The ice had helped, but only time would see the swelling reduce significantly.   
Mitch tidied away his medical equipment and returned to the bedroom with a hot drink and a straw to allow her to sip it. Clem came and joined them, the three of them sitting on the bed and enjoying being together. Outside, the last tanker pulled into the carpark, brakes hissing as it parked, snowflakes settling on the hot engine cover and melting instantly. Clem looked out the window and exclaimed. “It's snowing!”  
“Shouldn't we move on before it gets worse?” Jamie asked with difficulty.   
“We should, but we need to rest the motors a little before the trek back down to the interstate. It would have to snow for days for it to affect the roads or cause a problem. Pausing here for an hour won't put us at risk.”  
Snug inside the RV, Jamie dozed while Mitch did a crossword and Clem read her book. Outside the weather worsened, the ground around the resting RV's turning white while the wind rose, tearing the low clouds apart and sending streamers of white mist swirling around everything, visibility reduced to nothing – in actuality a whiteout.   
The CB squawked into life up in the cab and Mitch went to answer it.   
“This is the Audra Two, go ahead.”  
“Unless we plan on spending the night I suggest we start to move. Over.” Allan's voice sounded strained.  
Mitch peered out at the weather, noting the road was now covered with a thin layer of snow. “Send the cars on ahead, we can follow their tracks. Over.”  
“Good idea. Over and out.” Mitch replaced the receiver on its hook and return to the bedroom. “We're moving out. Might pay to be in seats with belts in case it gets slippery.”  
Clem got up readily enough but Jamie took her time, moving slowly, aches and pains making themselves known. When everyone was strapped in, Mitch picked up the CB mike again.  
“Audra Two ready to move out. Over.” The other RV's and campervans chimed in, announcing their readiness, as well as the truck and tanker drivers. The cars were about five minutes ahead of them, but so far hadn't called back to announce any problems with the road or conditions. Mitch waited for Allen's RV to pull out then followed behind, second in the convoy. Despite the poor visibility, the tracks of the cars were clearly visible in the thin layer of snow, the initial downhill section slow because they couldn't see any further ahead than a few feet, following the track lines of the cars slavishly. Mitch tested the brakes, finding they still had good traction, judging they'd left before the ice had a chance to form making the road surface treacherous.   
Slowly but steadily they crawled down the hill, each foot closer to sea level leaving the bad weather behind, the visibility improving every second. Within a short amount of time, they were approaching the outskirts of Soda Springs, the road surrounded by thick forest on either side, chalet-like houses appearing among the trees, the road no longer so steep, the layer of snow all but gone.  
Ahead of them was the intersection where the road joined the interstate, the weather scaling back to a light drizzle as the strung-out vehicles trailed across the freeway bridge and down the on-ramp, horns sounding in celebration of finding it open and free, the suffocating mist gone and the clouds now high above where they belonged.   
Originally they had thought they would be well on their way to arriving in San Francisco, but with all that had happened the day was drawing to a close and they weren't yet out of the Sierra Nevada range. With the interstate clear they went as fast as the slowest in their convoy could sustain, determined to make up for some of the lost time. Their goal for the night was now Sacremento. As they passed Emigrant Gap the persistent rain that had dogged their wheels all day finally petered out, only the smallest amount of precipitation giving the windscreen wipers something to work with. It was now a race against daylight, the long sweeping downhills testing nerves and brakes as they passed beyond the Blue Valley and headed through the western flank of the mountains, heading out towards the California Valley and Sacremento, still sixty miles ahead of them and the sun rapidly sinking behind the clouds. With the sunset streaking the sky pink and orange overhead, they pulled into the outskirts of Auburn, a quick conversation on the CB suggesting that they stop before drivers started to fall asleep at the wheel and it was too dark to see. Following the signs to an RV park on the outskirts of the city they gradually shed their Tails, the truck and tanker carrying on to their depots, the cars taking themselves off to motels to spend the night, the convoy shrinking in number back to its original Westies, rolling tiredly between the gates of the campgrounds in relief to be done for the day. They were directed to their sites and parked up, those that hadn't been driving, setting about getting their vehicles hooked up to power and water and getting a hot meal underway.   
Mitch got out of the driver's chair and stretched, his back clicking in protest. Jamie was already out of her seat, offering to help Clem, but being shoo'd away and told to go rest. Despite feeling guilty for leaving all the work for the youngster to sort out, Jamie took her aching head to the bedroom to lay it down on the pillows. Ignoring his own fatigue, Mitch produced an icepack and more painkillers for her to take, settling her as best he could before leaving her and heading for the tiny kitchen to help Clem create a hot meal and something to drink. After eating he went back to check on Jamie and take her something to eat, but was glad to find her fast asleep, his own weariness crashing over him. Knowing there was still things to do, he forced himself back into the body of the RV, put the food away for later, and found Clem getting herself ready for bed, the youngster glad of an early night after the excitement of a long day.   
“Nite, Dad.”  
“Goodnight, sweetheart. You did so well getting Jamie back to the RV during the fighting. I know Jamie has thanked you, but I wanted to add mine as well. You were very brave.” He bent down and pressed a kiss to his daughters blond head, her arms coming up so he could hug her as well.   
“Thanks, Dad. It was pretty exciting today, and we got to see snow.”  
“We did, but that's probably the last you'll see for a little while.”  
“I know. I'm looking forward to swimming in the ocean again. Will it be warm?”  
“I certainly hope so. Sweet dreams, Clem.” He bent and kissed her soft cheek before getting up and dragging himself towards the bedroom, locking up the Airstream and switching off the lights. If anyone needed him it would just have to wait until tomorrow. He was beat. 

When the Westie's finally gathered the next morning, it was a sorry bunch of wounded travelers that pulled chairs around. No one had escaped some injury or other. Jamie had been the only one knocked out, but several men were sporting impressive black eyes and bruised faces, as well as cut knuckles and grazed fists. The women hadn't come off much better, several having hands wrapped after getting scrapes and cuts from helping where they could, one or two, like Jamie, coming off the worse in the fighting. None of the injuries were fatal or close to it, but it was clear that they'd been involved in some sort of brawl and recently. Some were obviously stiff with the way they lowered themselves gingerly into chairs, some still holding or having cold packs strapped to whichever limb or extremity was swollen or wrenched. Some limped, ankles and wrists wrapped to support the sprains. Hidden injuries like pulled muscles and overstretched tendons made for a great deal of wincing and grimacing until everyone was settled as comfortably as possible.   
Only the children were unscathed from the encounter with the attackers, having been rounded up and bundled into one of the RV's and locked inside. They had been told their parents would suffer if they tried to escape and they took the threat seriously, keeping the younger kids entertained while they watched the adults and the drama enacted outside. Now, some of the younger kids sat on their parent's laps, while the older kids sat just behind their parents, regarding the proceeding with concern.   
The talk started off generally, some detailing what they were going to do that day in the way of maintenance for their vehicles, checking tires and engines, many of the comments downplaying the seriousness of the previous day's events, despite the obvious results of the brawl and close call. Some voiced their fears about a repeat of the situation during the last leg of their journey, the convoy leader, Allan, attempting to sooth those self-same fears with the knowledge that they were now only two hours away from reaching San Francisco so talk turned to which route they'd take. They had several options but only one took them over the Golden Gate Bridge, an experience all the Westies wanted to be a part of as their introduction to, potentially, their new lives. The first hour would take them out of the foothills and across the Central Valley, passing through Sacremento and on to the coast. The second hour would take them through the gap in the coastal range and around the bay to the bridge. After that, they'd check out an RV camp down the coast as their first stop. Several campers wanted to take advantage of the amenities on offer, doing laundry, taking showers, so it was decided to give the rest of the morning over to those activities and set out for the last leg of the journey after lunch.   
With everyone else looking equally as battered, Jamie didn't feel out of place, now only one of many sporting injuries to face and body from the past twenty-four hours. For her part, she just wanted to sleep and wake up when everything was healed, her usually buoyant nature taking a hit from recent events and leaving her a little down. Mitch saw the downturn in her mouth and eyes and wanted nothing more than to chase the pain and doubts away with his arms and words, helping her get back into the Airstream to lie down and rest. Clem, good girl that she was, collected all the wet gear and dirty towels scattered about the floor and carried them off to be laundered, joined by kids from other RV's doing the same.   
Jamie lay back down on the bed gratefully, her face starting to lose some of the swelling but still painful and tender. Mitch gave her a dose that dulled the pain and let her sleep, the only cure for the bruising and aches. When she was under he puttered around the RV tidying up, sweeping out the accumulated grit which had been tracked in, then mopping the floor to clean off the mud smeared everywhere. With that done he attacked the dirt-streaked surfaces, wiping down the shower cubicle and doing what needed to be done. As a last chore he checked and restocked his emergency medical satchel, noting in his journal updates on his patients, medication handed out, dosage and so on. He also compiled a shopping list when the next opportunity arose to restock. He pulled out a smaller notebook that detailed their financial situation, what had been spent, what was left in the kitty and how soon thing would become desperate. That done he turned his thoughts to his creature diary, something he'd not touched since Yellowstone. He spent the time it took for Clem to return with the clean and dry laundry to update his observations, adding to the creature types, adding everything he could remember about what he'd seen, heard, including the tracks on the road around the trees, hinting at other species of hybrid. He finished off the entries with sketches of the creatures, their appearance, the shape of the tracks he'd seen, completing all the information he had to date. Clem busied herself putting away the dry towels and making heaps of the clothes for the three of them.   
“Do we have anything fresh left?” she asked, sitting down opposite her father. Mitch looked up and closed his journal.   
“Bits and pieces. I'm sure we'll be able to get more, but we might as well finish up what we have.”  
Together they fossicked in the fridge and drawers for the remnants of the fresh fruit and veggies they'd picked up back at Salt Lake city, peeling and preparing side by side, working in partnership as they'd done since the first day he'd come to pick her up all those years ago. They bumped elbows and stole peelers, filching items to slice them up from each other's pile, soft laughter and joking comments spoken quietly between them, both aware of the injured woman recovering in the back room. At length they created a varied fruit salad and a mixture of sauteed veggies, topped with cheese, the tasty smell infusing the campervan and rousing Jamie, her mouth watering. 

The food was placed on the dining table like a mini-banquet, Clem decorating the table with place settings, napkins and a small bunch of flowers she's picked stuck in a glass jar. Jamie, helped by Mitch, sat down at the table and exclaimed over the trouble gone by both of them.   
“This all looks wonderful. The flowers are beautiful.”  
Clem slid into the seat opposite, beaming at her, Jamie only able to manage a small smile, still looking like she'd gone ten rounds in the ring. Mitch carried over a jug of sweetened iced tea, pouring it into glasses before sitting down himself. The meal was a great success, everyone enjoying the last of the fresh food, savoring the taste and hoping that more would be available soon. Jamie managed some, her jaw still too sore to allow much chewing but she appreciated the tastes on her tongue before swallowing some pieces whole, washed down with sips of iced tea.  
When the meal was over, they tidied everything away, taking out a rubbish bag and securing anything loose. As the time came to leave, Mitch did a final check around the outside of the RV, noting that they'd be looking for new tires soon, something he'd address when they were staying somewhere more permanently.   
For now, they prepared for the last stretch across country. While he waited in the driver's seat for Allen to lead them off, the RV started to shimmy, the feeling like nothing he'd felt before, the sensation lasting only a few seconds, but enough to raise goosebumps on his arm. Clem looked across at her father, her expression startled. Mitch grinned back at her.   
“Earthquake!” he told her, meeting Jamie's surprised glance as well. “Welcome to California!”

Allan and his family led the Westies out of the trailer park and back onto the interstate eighty, leaving Auburn and the last of the Sierra Nevada foothills in their wake, heading out over the Central Valley, pushing ever forward. Pine trees were replaced with willows, the traffic light, the weather dry and sunny. Strung out like ducks in a row, the Lexus bringing up the rear, the Westies kept a steady speed, eating up the miles. How much of the area was inhabited or abandoned was impossible to know, taking a cue from the number of trucks and tankers passing on the opposite side. Allan had informed the RV park manager about the barricade back at the Donner Pass, the man promising to get on to whoever was compiling road and traffic information for travelers and pass the information along.   
They stuck to the I-eighty through the center of Sacremento, crossing the American River, navigating a number of spaghetti junctions only getting glimpses of the city beyond. Then they crossed another river, the Sacremento, getting a distant view of the city center with its tower blocks. More frequently their views of the suburbs they drove through were blocked by high brick walls, screening them from seeing anything other than overbridges and underpasses. And still, they were beckoned onwards by the huge green signs now shouting only one destination – San Francisco. Like someone shutting a door, they were suddenly clear of the city and its environs and back out into the countryside, stretching as far as the eye could see under a cloudless blue sky, all hint of foul weather left apparently far behind. Outside of Vacaville, they were back into the hills, these ones only shallow and not a rock or pine tree to be seen. They blew through Fairfield, traffic still only light, still no idea how much hidden by walls and greenery was still open for business, or abandoned and left to wait for the return of people. At Cordelia Junction, they were ready to peel off onto highway twelve to start their detour to cross the Golden Gate Bridge. Twelve could join onto one-one-six that would take them around the border of San Pablo Bay before they jumped on the one-oh-one to take them all the way to the bridge. The rolling, rural landscape started to incorporate vast vineyards, row upon neat row, acre after acre carpeting the slopes and plains. The further they progressed into the Napa Valley, the more land was given over to viticulture until they were passing through the heart, heading for the junction with highway one-one-six. Now the convoy of Westies were rolling through a bucolic landscape of rolling pasture, no other traffic just rural vistas all the way to the horizon, even a distant glimpse of a small herd of cattle grazing the belly high grass. They were welcomed into Petaluma with tree-lined boulevards before they reached the onramp for the one-oh-one freeway that would take them into San Francisco over the historic red bridge. The freeway was true to its promise, bringing the convoy of six RV's and one battered car within sight of San Francisco Bay as they passed the Southern Heights Ridge, the distant glimmer of blue cause for excitement and rising anticipation. While crossing one of the inlet bridges, they got a glimpse of the distant city center of San Francisco, a low fog making the skyscrapers appear to float in the sky on the horizon. The Shoreline Highway started to climb, the road bordered by greenery that hid everything but brief glimpses of water below, then they came to a tunnel, the canted green sign giving the title Robin Williams Tunnel, a memorial to a long-dead comedian, Mitch turning on the headlights for the brief trip through. When they emerged on the other side Clem shouted and pointed, all three seeing the familiar red tower of the Golden Gate Bridge rising from the mist ahead.   
“We've made it,” Mitch breathed, glancing over to Jamie, her hand finding his across the space between them, Clem bouncing in her seat. For a brief moment the city was once more visible, still floating on a cloud of fog, but closer and more substantial, then the hills shut the door for a few seconds before they came around the curve and the bridge approach was in front of them, the towers rising above the fog, the massive suspension cables clearly visible. Every minute brought them closer, a deep rocky cutting passed then the bridge and city were in front, the fog curling up over the hillside beside them, despite the sunshine and clear sky above. From seeming so far away, they were suddenly on the red-metal approach to the bridge, passing the concrete cable housing and about to pass under the first tower, Allen slowing down so everyone could take in the experience.  
Clem was rubbernecking in all directions, trying to see under the first tower span, then taking in the mind-blowing views on either side, the bridge carrying them so high above the bay. Jamie could feel her jaw-dropping as they proceeded in stately procession across what symbolized so many hopes and dreams for the future. The mist that had tried to hide the iconic bridge was now floating below them, giving the impression they were driving above the cloud layer, flying so high. Suddenly they were passing under the second tower, marveling at the thousands of rivets holding the sheets of metal together, the paintwork looking like it needed a refresh in places. Abruptly the bridge was now behind them and they were passing through the old toll booths, traveling the Veterans Boulevard and going through another tunnel, lights on as the power seemed to be out and the tunnel was dark like the one before. Only a few other vehicles were using it at the same time, passing on the other side heading north.   
“Where are we heading for?” Jamie asked.  
“An RV park a bit further south, but right on the coast. This road will take us right to it.”  
“What's the name of the place?” she asked.  
“Would you believe the San Fransisco RV Park?”  
“Hmm. Original.” Jamie nodded, her face too swollen to give much more than a tight smile.   
Allen led his straggling convoy along the CA Highway One, which had numerous local names but would literally deposit them outside the park. They were all interested to see people out on the street, indicative of a settled community with readily available resources like food and amenities, which was what they'd trekked so far to find. Where there were people, there was trade and business, which meant jobs and the rule of law, probably schools, given time, and a future. It meant the return to a normal that they could all be a part of, even contribute towards. It was hope. 

Twenty minutes later and they were queueing up to get into the RV park, the owner appearing from the premises on site, obviously surprised, having received no communique about their imminent arrival. At first glance the park looked empty and run down, as did most things post animal revolution, but the owner was pleased to see them and unlocked the gate with alacrity, waving them in and directing them to the empty sites closest to the sea. Every one of the RV and Campers parked with their front facing the ocean. They had arrived. They were here.   
The view was everything they could have dreamed of, an unlimited expanse of ocean as far as the horizon, the booming sound of waves hitting the beach below as beautiful as birdsong. There was no access to the beach because that part of the coast sat atop a cliff edge, three chainlink fences spaced apart making anyone think twice before taking a dive off the edge. The owner explained that the park wasn't usually open this late in the year and only housed permanent residents staying over winter. He and his family had stayed because there was nowhere else for them to go, so they'd kept the place as well as they could, inviting the children to use the pool which was heated by solar panels, as was their house and the water heating for the amenities block. He also explained that mains power was still prone to cuts, but they had fresh water at least and flushing toilets. There was also a local produce market where anyone who grew stuff in their gardens or around their homes could bring it to sell either for cash, credits or services in exchange. The same with the services, people could go along and offer their skills for sale to earn cash or credits for food, a system that seemed to be working to everyone's mutual advantage. It wasn't entirely as it was before, but it was a start. Most of the retail shops were still boarded up or abandoned, the local market taking place in a superstore carpark for easy access, and usually was open every day with something on offer. There were also plenty of abandoned houses, some have been so from as far back as three years ago, others more recently as people moved to better areas or out of the area completely. There was a limited police presence, but for the most part, people policed themselves, especially around the market, looking out for thieves and purse snatchers. Punishment was meted out also by the community, depending on the severity of the crime. Thievery, when everyone had so little to start with, was the most heinous, punished with a severe beating then leaving in the stocks, a beautifully medieval solution dreamed up by a local metal worker, who created the stocks and set them up in the middle of the market. Any and all light-fingered crooks were guaranteed to end up there if caught. If the crime was more serious, they were put in the stocks until the police arrived to take them away. None were ever known to return and a mythology was starting to build up that crooks were dumped on The Island and left to rot. The Island being the former Treasure Island situated halfway along the Oakland Bay Bridge. There, they were left to sort things out for themselves, escape only through a narrow causeway easily manned by a small force of guards. Other islands were also in use, including the old prison on Alcatraz, the truly wild Angel island and of course for the worst of the worst, San Quentin nearby on the mainland. There was little time for pity when everyone was struggling to find their footing in this new world. 

Inside the Audra Two Mitch, Jamie, and Clem sat around their table and considered their plans to going forward.   
“I think an exploration of this market that he talked about is a logical first step,” Mitch suggested, looking at the others. “We can get our hands on some fresh food and check out how they do things.”  
“He said it was within walking distance...” Jamie noted.  
“Or we could take the bikes?” Clem jumped in. Mitch shook his head.  
“I think a walk to get familiar with what's around here would be a good idea. We can get the bikes assembled once we know what it's like, who lives here, what the dangers are.”  
Clem pouted. “Why did we come all this way if we're still going to be cooped up here?”  
Mitch arched an eyebrow. “Really, Clem? You really want to launch yourself out there without knowing if there are gangs roaming, just looking to rob or kidnap? Don't want to know about areas where pets have gone feral and just as likely to attack as to want a pat? Just because this is a big city, the dangers are as real as if we were in the middle of an African plain and surrounded by lions. Here, the lions just look different, but they're still lions.”  
“I guess,” Clem mumbled.  
“Look,” her father cajoled. “We could find it's a nice neighborhood and there'll be a ton of young people you'll be able to make friends with and hang about with, but until we have the place sussed out, we keep each other safe. We don't go out exploring alone without a partner, we don't go out unarmed with said partner, and we don't go anywhere beyond the RV park without telling someone where you and your partner are going.”  
Clem looked up at him. “Okay. Can we go now?”  
Mitch had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Go and wait outside, Jamie and I will be there in a moment.” Clem barely let him finish his sentence and she was gone in a burst of youthful energy, the door slamming shut behind her.   
Mitch laughed softly. “She's so excited to be here...”  
Jamie reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “We all are, Mitch. Give me a moment to find a scarf to cover this...” she indicated her face. “I won't be a moment.”   
She appeared a few moments later with a scarf wrapped around her head so that most of her hair and all of her face, bar her eyes, were covered under the thin material. Mitch considered her for a moment. “Got another one of those?” he asked.  
When Jamie produced it, he took it and wound it around his neck before bringing a length of material over his head like a hood and securing it. As it was the same material but a different color, they looked like a pair, drawing less attention to the fact Jamie had her face covered. When Clem saw what they'd done she insisted on having one for herself, again in a different color but Clem wore it similar to her Dad's style, so they all three looked related. Clem grabbed an empty backpack, along with Jamie, while Mitch took his medical satchel, plus a spare, empty bag the two hung over each shoulder so they crossed over his chest, leaving his hands free. He carried a handgun in a holster on his hip hidden under the long coat he wore together with extra ammo, handing another handgun to Jamie to hide in her jacket, as back up. Clem hooked her bow over her head to lay across her back, her quiver, only half full, attached to a belt around her waist. When they were ready to go they looked well prepared and obviously together. 

In the end, they formed part of a larger, exploratory party made up of Abe, Jackson, Dariela, and Chloe, Allan, and his eldest daughter, Eric and his son plus three others from the convoy. The camp owner gave them a street map of the surrounding area with clear instructions of where to find the market, then unlocked the gate, locking it behind them when they were through. Just the fact the owner needed to take such a measure was indicative that things were not entirely safe or secure beyond the chainlink fencing. As the group made their way along the sidewalk, a few cars and trucks passed them on the highway, none of the vehicles looking anything other than well used, and in some cases sporting extras in the way of armor and protection. Against what, was a question to find the answers for. The walk to the market only took a few minutes, the group reaching the shopping center of the district with ease, the first building they encountered being the large pharmacy on the corner, the windows boarded up. Further around the corner and the street, plus large carpark on the other side, was full of people milling around, vendors with table and booths set up like a huge renaissance market, selling produce of almost every kind, sections clearly marked off for fruit, veggies, meat, fish, baked goods, raw ingredients like flour, spices and such. One whole corner was given over to household goods big and small, then another corner for handmade items with wood carving and glass blown items both practical and frivolous. Linen had a whole section of its own, having not only clothing but anything made out of material. Leatherwork was there, plus a working smithy taking commissions, even a blade sharpener taking on work using a manual grinder when the power cut out for his electric equipment. Because of the intermittent power, everyone had an alternative if the electricity crapped out. Mitch and his group wandered throughout the market, stopping at the fresh produce to stock up, learning that when a person had no more cash to use they could earn credits and use those instead. Clem pricked her ears up at that, asking questions and told to go to the hiring stall for casual work, to see what was on offer. Mitch and Jaime went with her, leaving Jackson and the larger group to carry on around the stalls.   
In the work section, they approached a table being manned by a bored looking man, a long wooden painted board standing up beside the table with paper notes fluttering on it. The man looked up at his customers.  
“Good day to you, new faces I see. If you're looking to earn credits then I'm your man, Jeff Mason.” He held out his hand to Mitch, ignoring Clem and Jamie. Mitch shook it but immediately stood back to allow Clem to move forward.   
“My daughter is looking for casual work. Clem?” His daughter shot him a grateful look then stepped up to the table.   
“Do you have anything I can do?” she asked, the man looking her up and down.  
“Well, little lady, let's see what we have for you....”   
Mitch tuned out the conversation between Clem and the employment agent, his eyes looking over the other stalls, looking specifically at those advertising for work, what they used to advertise with, the wording and signage, what they were charging. He took all this in while Clem discussed what she could be put forward for, the rules and pay rates. He was pleased to note there was no difference in pay if the person was a teen or retired, the rate remained the same. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Clem let out a shout and fist-pumped the air.  
“Yes! Dad, I got a job!” Clem was given a sheaf of documents detailing her rights and obligations to read and told to turn up at one of the stalls at eight in the morning. She shook hands with the agent and turned to leave, Jamie turning as well, giving Clem a hug. Mitch lingered to speak to the agent.  
“What's the story with work for qualified professionals?” he asked. The agent squinted up at him.  
“Depends on the skill. Don't happen to be a dentist, by any chance?”  
“Nope. Unregistered and uncertified doctor, qualified and documented veterinary pathologist.”  
“Why unregistered?”  
“Didn't get a chance to complete my residency before everything went to crap,” Mitch answered, embroidering the truth somewhat. The agent whistled in admiration.  
“I think we could find enough work for you, in either field, to keep you busy for years.”  
Mitch gave him a tight smile. “What state are the hospitals in?”  
“Pretty bad. Short of staff, short of medicine, short of supplies, too many patients, not enough of anything.”  
Mitch nodded. “Pretty much the same everywhere we've been. What's the likelihood of using that pharmacy on the corner for practice rooms?”  
The agent shrugged. “It was looted early on, but there's still plenty of stuff in there. If you were to set up there, you could do both, doctor and vet, in the one place.”  
“Any other medical people in the crowd?”  
“Couple of retired nurses, midwives, one or two retired surgeons. Anyone not retired or under fifty and qualified has been drafted for the hospital.”  
“Forcibly?”  
“Pretty much. The city centers are mostly under martial law. We deal with our own problems unless it's murder, then we call the cops. Anything else it dealt with by the community.”  
Mitch lifted his lips in a wry smile. “Mob justice, you mean.”  
The man shrugged. “We've been here for nearly all of these last three years and no complaints so far. The rules are clearly posted and everyone knows them. Them that steps out and takes on the system get short shrift and a spell in the stocks. Your friends would find work easy as watchers and bouncers. Send them over if you think they'd been interested.”  
Mitch glanced over at Jackson and Abe. “I'll let them know what you said.” He drew a breath.“Who do I see about using the pharmacy to set up shop?”   
The agent grinned up at him. “Needs to go before the committee, but I don't foresee any real problems. We have a meeting tomorrow before dark at the community center right at the end of the road. Be there and present your case and any documentation you have. You'll know on the night, we don't take long to decide.”  
Mitch nodded and turned to leave. “Not looking for work for the missus?” the man called after him.   
Mitch paused and looked back. “Not right now,” he replied, then walked away.   
He caught up with Jamie and Clem who were looking at some of the more exotic foodstuffs on display, some still in their original packaging, obviously looted. When Mitch joined them, they left the stall, much to the stall-keepers dismay at having lost a sale. Mitch told them what he'd discussed with the employment agent, and the meeting the following day. Clem pointed out the stall she'd be going to start work at, Mitch staring for a moment at the current vendor, a woman, not seeing anything to cause concern. They met up with Abe and the others, Mitch passing on the message from the agent, both men looking surprised and saying they'd go visit him at some time.   
There were a couple of seating areas with vendors offering drinks, both hot and cold. Jamie asked for a coffee, which Mitch had as well, while Clem opted for a juice. More precious coin was exchanged and they each savored their choices.   
“This all seems so strange and yet, so familiar,” Jamie said, looking around at the bustling place. “The people seem happy, or am I just seeing what I want to see?”  
“I'm thinking the same thing. If I'm allowed to set up business in the pharmacy over the road, this could be a sweet deal for us all. What'cha think, Clem?”  
The young girl shrugged. “It's okay. We're lucky it's so close to where we're staying.”  
“We are that,” Mitch added, sending his daughter a fond smile.   
They lingered at the market a while longer, watching others of their group haggle at stalls, filling their bags and backpacks with goods and produce, talking with the locals, everyone smiling and content. A clock started to chime, sounding the hour at one of the household goods stores, but it seemed to be the signal for the market to start packing up. The sun indicated it was around three or four in the afternoon, still hours to go before sunset, but that didn't deter the stall holders from repacking their goods and produce away for another day. The empty shops bordering the carpark were being used as storage units, all fitted with roller doors to provide a lockup for those that used them, everyone else carrying their goods off-site, leaving behind the tables, tents, benches, and booths to be used when they returned for the next day of business.   
Mitch got up to leave, the sidewalk cafe being dismantled around them like everything else. The vendor called out, “back again tomorrow,” before carrying the fold up tables and chairs into one of the shops to be stored until the next time.   
Slowly the area emptied of people and goods, the Westies regrouping and starting the short walk back to the RV camp, their formerly empty bags full of goodies and heads full of stories to tell those that had stayed at the camp.   
Clem skipped on ahead, Jamie and Mitch walking behind, hand in hand, a stiff sea breeze tugging at the scarves about their heads. Mitch let his fall back, while Jamie held hers in place, ignoring any curious looks from those that didn't know her, keeping her face hidden until it resumed its normal proportions.   
A rattle at the metal gate brought the camp manager out to unlock it, the group entering in high spirits, scattering to their various vehicles to show off their bounty.  
Clem used her spare key to open the Airstream and dump her stuff before changing quickly into her swimsuit and grabbed a towel to go use the pool, where other kids were already having fun. She raced past the adults, giving them a negligent wave, calling out to her friends as she went.   
“Oh, to be that young,” Mitch mused, handing Jamie up into the RV.   
Jamie carefully unwrapped her scarf, glad to be able to shed its folds, shaking her head and finger combing her flat hair. “I flatly deny ever having been that young or that full of energy.”  
“At least you're closer to that age than I am,” Mitch shot back. “I sometimes think my hair will turn grey just watching her bounding about.”  
They both laughed, emptying their backpack's contents, including Clem's, onto the table to inspect and decide what they would use right away and what to keep for later. As they sorted and stored, nibbled and tasted some of the bounty, they pondered the future.  
“I can't just stay at home and write a book, not with both you and Clem out there working. I simply can't do that.”  
“You don't want to write anymore?” he asked, popping a grape into his mouth.  
“I do, but I also can't sit around and sponge off your generosity.”  
Mitch looked down at the table top briefly, then turned his head to stare off into the distance. “Would you still consider it sponging, if you were married?” he asked.  
Jamie stared at him, her mouth open. “Excuse me?”  
Mitch turned back to face her. “Do you consider that a wife leaches off her husband if she's not working?”  
Jamie tried to regain some of her composure. “I...er...no. But...” Mitch held up a finger and she stopped speaking.  
“Then I think the solution to your problem is self-evident.”  
She tried to speak but only a squeaky cough came out. Shutting her mouth she tried again. “Mitch, this is ludicrous, you don't want to do this...”  
Mitch stared at her, his eyes searching her face, his hand reaching across the table to take hers. “You said you loved me, was that a lie?”  
Jamie blinked then relaxed. “No.”  
“Then....Jamie Campbell, would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”  
“Oh.” She stared back at him from her battered face, tears welling that she tried to blink away. “I can't.”  
Mitch reared back and raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”  
“Please. This has nothing to do with how I feel about you, about Clem, I just can't marry you. Don't ask me to explain, Mitch, it's just impossible.” She withdrew her hand from his. Mitch slowly reclaimed his hand and sat back in the seat, his brows knitted as he tried to fathom what was going on with the woman across the table from him.   
“Um...so...I love you, you love me, you love Clem, we get on pretty well and the sex is fantastic. So tell me what the problem is?”  
Jamie refused to look at him, starting to fidget in her seat. “You don't understand, I just can't marry you. I do love you but I won't be a burden on you and Clem. I'll find work and contribute, just as everyone else will be doing...”  
“I was hoping you might help me out once I'm set up at the pharmacy,” Mitch interjected, breaking into her rambling. “Jamie, what is it?” He reached across to take her hand but she pulled it back and slid out of her seat.   
“I need to get some air, Mitch. Don't follow me.” Snatching up her scarf, she hastily wrapped it around her head and darted out of the campervan, slamming the door shut behind her.   
Mitch sat at the table in stunned surprise. It had seemed the simplest of solutions, but somehow it had become a monumental problem between them and he had no fucking idea why.

Jamie leaned against the metal railing and stared unseeing at the ocean, a breeze teasing out the loose ends of her scarf, threatening to tug it free completely. She hated not being able to tell Mitch her reasons for refusing him, but it had to be made clear, she couldn't marry him. Yes, she loved him more than she thought it possible to love anyone and she'd be happy to live with him and love with him for the rest of her days, but as his wife? No. That she could never be. In her mind's eye a slide show of all the reasons why shuttled past in rapid snapshots of the past three years, faces forming a kaleidoscope until they all melded into the same person with minor variations of hair color and physique. She's once tried to count how many but stopped when they reached a figure that was just embarrassing, but to anyone else would be horrific. Some had been better than others, some even thought themselves in love with her, and she with them, for a short time, but soon it was back to business and on to the next, and the one after, then the one after that. She had once acknowledged to herself that she had a certain effect on men, and that hadn't changed. The white knights, like Mitch, wanted to marry her, the Robber Barons wanted to own her while the rest just wanted to fuck her or hurt her, sometimes both. They all wanted to use her for short time to fulfill whatever fantasy inhabited their thinking until their infatuation ended and she'd be kicked to the kerb, seen for what she was and discarded. The periods of that happening had been becoming shorter and shorter until for the first time, she found herself on her own with nothing but a car, a trunk full of belongings, and a handful of cash. Then she'd been introduced to Mitch. For her it had been love at second sight, she'd been too nervous and upset over Ethan at their first meeting, but after that, he'd embodied everything she'd ever wanted in a man and her heart, mangled and stained as it was, started up again, the instant connection apparently reciprocated, his cynical act hiding a man of thought and feeling, of depths worth plumbing. Her effect was still working, despite her age and blackened soul, and he'd fallen, as had she, their time together idyllic and wonderful. But like all the other white knights, he just had to ask that question, the one she couldn't answer with anything but disappointment. He'd probably laugh it off as poor timing, or too soon, but before long it would turn into resentment and suspicion and she'd be right back where she started from. Only this time she truly believed what was left of her heart would break and never mend when she had to leave.   
Caught up in her depressing thoughts she didn't hear Dariela approached and stand beside her.  
“How's the face?”  
Jamie jumped and turned her head. “Um...fine. It'll be fine in a few more days, once the swelling goes down.”  
Dariela nodded, staring out at the ocean. “So I hear that Clem has jumped in and got herself a job already,”  
Jamie nodded this time. “She has. Working at one of the stalls. Now we're here, what are you and Chloe going to be doing?”  
Dariela shrugged. “Right this moment? Haven't a clue. We have some resources, but I'm not sure there's much need for an ex-military type unless they need something guarding.”  
“You might be surprised. The employment agent we saw seemed to think Abe and Jackson could get jobs as security around the market,” Jamie told her.  
“I'm not even sure how long the guys are going to stay here, but wherever they go, we're along for the ride.”  
Jamie looked at the dark-haired woman. “You really like Abe, don't you?”  
Dariela turned to meet her gaze. “I do. He's a sweetheart and easy to like.”  
“I'm pleased for you both.”  
Dariela shot her a shrewd glance. “Something wrong? You seem a bit down.”  
Jamie shook her head. “Nothing at all. Just working on some stuff in my head.”  
Her companion stared out at the ocean. “It's been a tough few years, particularly for women, I think.”  
Jamie turned to look at her. “Really?”  
“Oh yeah. I was separated from my squad, my guys, and when I went back to headquarters to be shipped back out to them, it was so chaotic there was no one to make a decision as to what to do with me. I waited and waited, but no new orders came and I was stuck in limbo, desperate to get back to the team but having no means to do so. It was crazy shit, back then. Anyway, the long and the short of it was I left the military, went AWOL I suppose, trying to find my own way back by whatever means I could find.” Dariela shook her head. “Can't believe how stupid I was. Got into one bad situation after another, got in with a bad crowd and had to get out, but not before having done some serious shit to pay my way. Once I was free I started to blend with the crowd, instead of sticking out and making myself a target. Worked pretty well for a time, then I met up with Chloe who had taken longer to find herself in the same position, but who could have something better than I did if she accepted my help, which she did. And here we are, nicely settled with two gorgeous guys and a chance to keep it that way.”  
“I'm glad for you both, truly. I hope you don't decide to move, I'll miss you.”  
Dariela looked at her. “You have something pretty good going on with Mitch. He'll be asking you to marry him next!” She said it jokingly but instead Jamie ducked her head, her eyes welling up.   
“Hey, I'm sorry, didn't mean to bring you down, I thought you'd be happy with the idea.” Dariela tried to make out Jamie's face but the scarf hid all but her eyes.   
“I can't marry him, Dariela.”  
“Why not?”  
Jamie shook her head. “I would take too long to explain, but I'm not what everybody always thinks I am. People look at me and only see the face, or the hair or something. They never see what's underneath.”  
Dariela looked at her shrewdly. “We've all had to do stuff to get by, I told you I'd run with a bad crowd...”  
“You have no idea what I had to do, what I did with so many...I do love Mitch and Clem, but I can't pretend to be what I'm not. I sometimes feel like the painting of Dorian Grey, all sweet and nice on the surface, but totally disgusting and corrupt under the skin to such an extent no amount of scrubbing will ever make it clean again.” Jamie turned to face her friend. “You see it never lasts. No matter how much I want it too, it never lasts very long. I love them, they love me and it's all fine for a little while, then they start to question how I know stuff, why I am the way I am, start asking exactly what I had to do to get by, and they never want the truth, not the real reasons because when I tell them, they can't wait to get rid of me, to pass me over to the next one in line, all their talk of love trampled and destroyed.”  
“Damn. You have it bad for him. I don't know him very well, but Mitch seems like a good guy, and he's totally into you.”  
“I know, he's sweet and kind, but he has a daughter, and if he really knew what I was he wouldn't want her anywhere near me, so no...I won't marry him, I won't make him commit himself. Once he knows, he'll start to watch for those little signs, things that he'll think gives me away, he'll get jealous if I look at anyone else, then he'll hate that and start to hate me...and don't tell me it won't, that he's different, I've lived it too many times not to know the way it plays out. It'll go easier if he's free to let go without any formal commitment in the way.”  
“Well, shit. You've got it all down pat. Why stay around at all if you're so sure this will all play out the same way?” Dariela asked.  
Jamie suddenly smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, he is great in bed and I'd be a fool to cut off my nose to spite my face, so I'll stick around and enjoy these early days, they're always the best. I'll know when it's time to go before it all turns ugly and mean, but until then, I'll enjoy what I can and to hell with the future.” She drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “I only have today because tomorrow never comes.”  
Dariela snorted. “Fuck that shit, if I can rope Abe into keeping me on, I'll be hanging on to that man for the rest.”   
Both women laughed at that, Jamie taking comfort from a sympathetic hearing. 

Mitch watched the two women talk from where he sat just behind the passenger seat, through the windscreen. Watching Jamie's posture he could almost follow the conversation without knowing the words. She'd been upset and probably crying when she'd left the airstream, her body showing abject misery in the line of her neck and raised shoulders. He's seen her start in alarm when Dariela leaned on the metal rail beside her, then she's relaxed and lost that tense look to her back, obviously explaining something to her friend, the women facing each other, trusting and open. Then she'd turned away to stare out over the ocean, her shoulders once more slumped as if accepting the inevitable, a future that for some reason she felt had no hope in it. Dariela was obviously a good listener because she made Jamie laugh and relax slightly, the two women finding a common ground until they were both turned to face the sea with more relaxed bodies and heads no longer down bent.   
It would seem that Dariela had managed to prise something out of Jamie, maybe even the reason the woman rejected his proposal, but he suspected that getting anything out of the dark-haired ex-soldier would take more techniques of interrogation than he was prepared to employ. Jamie had a secret that she felt put her beyond the reach of being able to allow herself to have faith in the future. Mitch could either accept that and forget all about marriage, just keep things on a casual basis, lots of people did, or he could try and work out the reason for himself. He could also try to impress on her that he, Mitch Morgan, wasn't going anywhere and more importantly, wanted her with him whatever they did, that she did have a future, one secured on a solid footing that wouldn't crumble at the first hurdle. He knew so little of what had happened to her in the last three years or before even that, maybe there was something in her history that made her feel she wasn't entitled to something as simple as a home, marriage, and family. Mitch stared sightlessly out at the ocean beyond the cliff edge. He was good with puzzles, and Jamie was proving a challenging one, he just had to find out what the key was to unlock the clue to solving it.   
With that in mind, he got up and moved to set up his workbench, unfolding the top, pulling down the shelves and finding the stool that he used. That done he found a notepad and started to think. He wrote what he knew from what he'd seen and in another column what he'd been told. He wrote down about the marks on her arm, then the reason she'd given, plus other things he'd observed and been told. They were both frighteningly short lists. He then compiled a list of her qualities, against a list of her skillset, again a worryingly short number of words, although her qualities were everything anyone could want – courageous, brave, affectionate, generous – nothing there that hinted at anything dark in her background, in fact quite the opposite on the surface. But that was the problem, he had only the surface to judge from. He needed to approach the problem from a different angle. He put his pen down and propped his chin on his clasped hands, elbows resting on the workbench. He thought back over the years to when the animal attacks started, about how a person, a single woman would survive in those conditions without the shelter or help of family, husband or partner to rely on. It would have been a frightening time for anyone, male or female, everything you knew, all the support you relied on, the work that sustained you, all gone or failing. Inevitably he considered what the options were for a young woman in her late twenties – become a refugee, take shelter with others? But even in those situations, an unprotected woman was prey to attack from men, either singly or in a group. Possibly she'd try to disguise herself and hide among the throngs of people as a youth, given her height and slight figure but that would only keep her safe without closer inspection, and only for so long. She would be just as much prey as a young man as she would as a woman. The more he thought about it the worse the picture was getting as to how Jamie might have survived in those early days. Employing a purely cold-blooded point of view, she would have been best to find a protector, or better a number of protectors to provide her with safety from not only the animals but from people as well. That raised several ugly situations, none of them palatable, but all a possibility. Jamie didn't seem to show any signs of suffering from any post-traumatic symptoms, but then if she'd had to survive one unpleasant situation after another for three years, or more, then she'd be quite the opposite, resigned to accepting her lot, have built up a series of mental defenses to protect against suffering emotionally, even if she couldn't protect against the physical abuse, her feelings buried deep and overlaid with feelings of unworthiness, little sense of self-worth and in fact, be almost fatalistic that she had nothing to offer other than her body to give her something to trade for security and safety. Had she seen in him that same opportunity? Had she used her winsome appeal and sex to secure a position for herself ? Finding by any means a place to keep her safe for however long it latest, Mitch just the latest in a long line of men who used her, as much as she used them. Was she really that mercenary, was it even her fault if she was? The human animal, whatever gender, had a strong will to survive in almost any situation, prepared to suffer any indignity, any abuse to be protected, to be safe.  
Was this the riddle of Jamie Campbell?   
He ripped the sheets of paper off the pad and screwed them into the tightest balls he could make before opening a small drawer and putting the waste paper in it. Whichever way he looked at it, the possibility that Jamie had been required to perform a multitude of thoroughly unpleasant and distasteful things to achieve her goal of surviving, couldn't be ignored. If what he theorized was the truth, then she could easily consider her time with him as being borrowed and not long term, her sensibility regarding Clem probably pushing her to conclude that if Mitch new a fraction of what she'd done, to still be alive when so many were not, he'd want nothing more to do with her just to protect his daughter. She'd consider herself a social pariah and unfit for decent company, whatever that was. If he was right, then he had his work cut out to hold on to her long enough to convince her that she didn't have to go looking for anyone else, ever again, for the rest of her life. If she wouldn't let him put a ring on her finger, then he'd just have to make sure she never felt she wasn't wanted or needed, for whatever reason. She was his and he was her's, for as long as they both may live, which, he hoped, was for a very long time to come.   
Content in his own mind that he knew what he was up against, he got up and started to prepare something for lunch. Clem would be coming back from the pool before long and need feeding, plus he was feeling peckish himself, lifting the freshly baked bread to his nose to inhale deeply, loving the yeasty smell before cutting it into thin slices for sandwiches. He glanced out briefly through the windscreen but Jamie and Dariela were no longer by the fence, so he put her sandwich to one side for when she returned, which he was sure she would. Jamie would have convinced herself to make the most of a good thing while it latest, he knew she was pragmatic enough to do that, at least. He would just have to make sure she was too involved in something during the day, and too tired from his lovemaking at night to even consider leaving him.


	8. Relearning The Ropes

Jamie had thought it would be awkward to return to the Airstream, attempting to delay the inevitable by going to visit with Dariela and Chloe, spending a couple of hours with them while they waited for the Safari Boys to return from an exploratory trip they'd wanted to make using the Lexus. She had felt too upset to eat when they offered lunch, but when she opened the door to the Audra Two she was ready for something to nibble on. Mitch greeted her normally, offering her the sandwich he'd made for her, Jamie taking it gratefully, unwinding the scarf from around her head and sitting at the table.   
“Would you like something to drink?”  
Jamie nodded. “Just water would be fine.” She focused her attention on eating, taking small bites to keep the pressure off her injured jaw. Mitch handed her a glass and she took it, giving him a small smile that he returned, no judgment or speculation in his gaze as she'd half expected. Relaxing a little, she savored the fresh salad in her sandwich as well as the soft, fresh bread. Mitch made himself a coffee and slid into the bench opposite her, one of his medical journals in hand to read while keeping her company. They sat together, Mitch apparently engrossed in his reading material, Jamie sneaking looks at him between consuming her food and staring out of the window. As they sat there, the water in the glass between them shimmied for several seconds, Jamie staring at it wide-eyed, Mitch noting the movement as well. She looked up and met his eyes.   
“Earthquake?”  
“Just a small one, hardly noticeable. Usually, you can't feel much unless it's over two-point-five on the Richter scale, anything less and you may be aware of it, but not actually feel much, or so I've read.”  
Jamie gave a nervous laugh. “Guess we'll get used to it.” Mitch returned her smile warmly, then returned to his magazine.   
Jamie finally finished her sandwich and sat back, her hand gravitating to her face to test the tenderness of her cheek and jaw.  
“Any better?” Mitch asked.  
“A bit. Ask me again tomorrow.”   
“I will.”  
They sat at the table in companionable silence, Jamie looking out the window, Mitch reading his medical paper. Soon the food and the emotional turmoil of the morning took their toil and Jamie felt her head nodding.   
“I think I'll just go and lie down for a bit,” she announced getting to her feet.   
“Good idea,” Mitch agreed, looking up briefly. Jamie gave him a sideways look then took her plate to the sink and rinsed it before padding off to the bedroom, her thoughts confused. She lay down fully clothed, only kicking off her boots and tried to figure out what Mitch might be thinking. Certainly, his behavior seemed to indicate he wasn't angry or particularly upset about her rejection of his proposal, in fact, seemed to have taken it all very calmly. There was no hint of curiosity or demands for answers, all very curious. In the middle of trying to sort out the conundrum, she drifted off, waking several hours later to find a blanket over her and voices coming from the end of the RV. Getting up, she pushed her feet into her unlaced boots and wandered out. Clem was sitting at the table with her father, the pair of them playing a game of cards. Clem looked up and sent her a blinding smile.  
“Hey, Jamie.”  
“Hey, Clem. How was your swim?” she asked, standing next to the table.   
“Oh, it was cool. I mean not cool as in cold, just cool as in fun. They use solar power to heat the water so it wasn't freezing, sort of tepid.”  
“I imagine it will be a lot warmer than the sea, this time of year.”  
“Yeah. There's a swimming beach not far from here, but it's off limits out of season,” Clem explained. Mitch moved over to make space and Jamie sat down on the bench seat beside him, his leg brushing up against hers.   
“Why off limits?” Jamie asked.   
“Something about weird stuff seen when the water gets cold. Apparently, whatever it is the locals are afraid of, it doesn't like the warmer summer temperatures.” Clem lay a card down that her father promptly picked up after discarding one of his own.   
“Sounds odd. Did 'they' say what the weird stuff was?” Jamie persisted. Clem shook her head.   
“Nope. Just weird.”  
She watched them play for a bit before speaking again. Clem let out a whoop when she laid her cards down, fanned out over the surface. “Gin!” Mitch looked at her hand and dropped his on the table top, lifting his hands in defeat.   
“You're too good for me,” he announced, reaching across the table to shake her hand. “You win.”  
Clem started to gather up the cards to pack them away, still smiling at having beaten her father.  
“You looking forward to your new job tomorrow?” Jamie asked.  
“Sure am. Dad's going to walk me down there and collect me after work, just until I make friends or find someone else to escort me,” Clem replied, poking her tongue out at Mitch when he made overly dramatic hand gestures as if mortally wounded by her words.   
“If I get the go-ahead for setting up in the pharmacy building, you'll be able to go there after work and help me out,” Mitch told her. He turned to face Jamie. “Have you thought about what I said about helping out at the clinic?”  
Jamie stared at him for a beat. “What would you need me to do?”  
“Well, I'm hoping to sign on some of the retired medical people around here to help with the patients, but I need someone to manage the waiting room, sort out a system of precedence depending on need, and maintain patient records,” he outlined.  
“So you need a receptionist?”  
“Yeah. Pretty much. Think you could handle that?”  
“Probably. So, first come first served?”  
“More like most serious served first. Animal or human.”  
“That should be interesting. I've never known a doctors offices where you can bring your pets.”  
Mitch grinned. “First time for everything.”  
“What about supplies?” Jamie asked. “We're going to need stationary, plus medical supplies, other than what is already in the pharmacy.”  
“Thought of that. Depending on what comes from this meeting tomorrow with the community leaders, I'll need a phone book to sort out what other businesses are in the area and go on a looting spree to see what's still available.”  
Jamie looked at him askance. Mitch saw her expression and let out a sigh.  
“Look. Pharmaceutical production is not going to be very high on many people's agenda's and even if they did start up again, there are so many drugs needed for so many reasons, they'd never be able to keep up with demand. This doctor's surgery that I'm going to be setting up is not like before, I will have very little to work with and only be able to do the most basic of doctoring for most people. I'm hoping there is a herbalist or naturopath somewhere local so we can draw on natural, not just manmade medicines. I'm going to have to get books out of the local library about medicinal plants to supplement what few drugs have lasted the distance, for both human and animal. Just because the shingle will read doctor and vet, doesn't mean I can perform miracles or have access to the same resources as before. It'll be like going back about a hundred years, in medicinal terms. I'll be able to stitch and fix and give advise, deliver babies and diagnose, but without any of the crutches of modern pharmaceutical solutions.”  
“Isn't that dangerous? I mean, for you and the patients?”  
“Medicine has always been dangerous, Jamie. People will have a choice. If they want a second opinion there is always the hospitals that are open. It will also be made clear that I am working within the limitations of the times, just as we all are. I will accept responsibility for my actions, but the patients have to accept responsibility as well. I don't do the impossible, I just do what I can.”  
Jamie stared into his eyes and understood. “I'd be happy to help,” she told him simply. Mitch smiled and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her lips.   
“Thank you.”  
Clem had been an interested audience to the entire exchange, her elbows on the table top supporting her face with her hands as she watched the adults. With the kiss, she let out a loud sigh.  
“Better than television any day.”  
Mitch sat back and looked at her, brows drawn together in a frown. Clem smiled back, unfazed.  
“You guys are so cute together, it's adorable.”  
“Isn't it your turn to make the meal tonight?” Mitch asked sternly. Clem bounced up and skipped over to the kitchen.  
“Whatever you say, daddyo!”  
Jamie looked at Mitch and mouthed 'daddyo' at him, but he just shrugged. 

Mitch had spent the evening going through his paperwork, looking out his official and unofficial documentation regarding his qualifications in preparation for the meeting the following night. That done, he started to write out an argument for why he should be granted the right to practice medicine despite not being fully board certified. He also outlined what he intended to offer for both human and animal patients and how he intended to run his practice. On a separate sheet he laid out the people, and minimum supplies he'd need to have, to be effective as well as a plan to introduce alternative medicinal options for use where previous medicines were no longer available, just as he'd explained to Jamie. Clem took herself off to bed and Jamie the same, Mitch not finishing until late. Packing it all away in his satchel, he got up and stretched, finding himself alone with his sleeping daughter. Softly kissing her goodnight, he switched off the lights, locked up the RV and prepared for bed. Jamie was still awake when he entered the bedroom, her eyes following him as he stripped off, donned his boxers and slipped under the covers beside her.   
“All ready for tomorrow?” she asked, holding herself a little stiffly. Mitch ignored her hesitant behavior and pulled her over to nestle against him.  
“As much as I can be. They'll either believe me or they won't.”  
“And if they don't?”  
“I'll set up shop somewhere else. I only need one person to need a doctor, to be in business. Something nice and easy like a broken arm, or a gash that needs stitching.”  
“You could always ask me to act as your show and tell dummy, for the stitching at least.”  
“I'll keep that in mind.”  
They lay together, listening to the muted boom of the waves at the base of the cliff and the nighttime noises of the campervans around them.  
“Mitch?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“I'm sorry....about this morning...”  
“No need. I understand. Everyone wants to feel useful, and Clem getting a job so quick only reinforced that for you. You'll get to write your book, just later.”  
“Yeah. Later.” He heard her mumble against his shoulder. “Mitch?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I do love you.”  
“I know.”  
They lapsed into silence again.

In the water below the campgrounds, strange eel-like creatures slithered through the shallows, their skin emitting a pale bioluminescence that trailed behind them like a streamer of light, the swarm of modified creatures making their way along the coastline, heading for the mouth of the bay. 

Mitch was up early the next morning to escort Clem to her job, the pair of them leaving in plenty of time, Jamie waving them off still in her night clothes. With the place to herself, she locked the door and had a quick shower then puttered about, making beds and generally tidying up. She had no definitive plans for the day, waiting to see what Mitch wanted to do first. Everything done, she sat at the table and waited for him to return. Because of the amount of space available, the campervans weren't parked on top of each other but with a space between on either side, giving not only room to put up awnings and furniture but also to give a measure of privacy and a better view. She saw the moment Mitch returned to the campground, the owner coming out to let him in, Mitch speaking with the man for several minutes before walking forward, his stride loose and relaxed. He was wearing the long coat again and it billowed with the breeze around his ankles as he walked. He also wore the scarf she'd used to hide her face, wrapped loosely around his neck in a loop, the ends hanging down. Give him a stetson and he'd start to look like a cowboy of olden days, just missing the gunbelt to complete the ensemble. The gun was probably in his pocket, she mused, knowing how cautious he was. She got up and opened the door for him, his wide smile lifting her mood instantly.   
“Good morning, beautiful,” he greeted her, leaning in for a kiss, his lips cool against hers.  
“Clem all settled?” she asked, going to sit at the table.  
“I met her employer and we talked about a few things, straightened a few misconceptions out and now it's all sweet.” Mitch shrugged off his coat before sitting down opposite her.   
“Misconceptions?”  
“Made sure the lady and anyone else who asks, understand that Clem is not an abandoned waif, desperate and alone. She has protection and a father prepared to back it up. Once that was clear, it was plain sailing.”  
“How did Clem take it?”  
Mitch shrugged. “She's used to having an over-protective dad.”  
Jamie looked down at the table. “She's a lucky girl if she only knew it.”  
“She knows it,” Mitch shot back, his theory about what Jamie must have endured giving him an insight into understanding her seemingly throwaway line. “I wanted to ask you something.”  
Jamie looked up at him, wariness in her eyes. Mitch ignored it.  
“If anything happens to me, would you take care of Clem? Protect her as best you can?”  
She gaped at him for a moment. “Mitch, I'm the last person you want looking after your daughter, honestly, the absolute last.”  
“I don't have anyone else to ask, Jamie. Clem loves you and needs someone to help her if anything happens to me.”  
“You really, really don't want someone like me having anything to do with Clem, believe me. Why not ask Jackson or Abe? They are much better people to protect and care for her.”  
With each word, she confirmed more and more emphatically what he'd figured out for himself.   
“I was going to ask them to look after you both if I'm out of the picture, but Clem would need you first and foremost.”  
Jamie looked haunted. “Please don't ask me, Mitch. I'm not suitable, really, I'm not. If you only knew...”  
“Knew what?” Mitch pressed, leaning forward over the table.   
Jamie's eyes darted to left and right, looking for an escape. “You don't know what it was like...”  
Mitch interrupted her. “I can guess, Jamie. Who better to protect my daughter from having that happen to her than someone who knows from experience the pitfalls for a young woman in this violent world.”  
Her eyes darted to his, meeting his direct look with one full of fear and realization that Mitch had already worked out the probable reasons for her opposition to his proposal yesterday.   
“How could you know?”  
“I have eyes, I survived when others didn't. We crossed the continent, back and forth and saw the way things worked. Anyone with a grain of intelligence would understand what a woman, especially one alone and unprotected, would have to do to make her way and stay alive.”  
Jamie drew in a shuddering breath. “Then you know better than most that giving your daughter into my keeping is the worst thing you could possibly do.”  
Mitch shook his head. “I think that a woman with the courage and tenacity to get herself through the last three years in one piece, physically and mentally, is the kind of woman who would fight tooth and claw to keep an innocent from being drawn into that hell.” He paused to let that sink in. Jamie stared back at him, her breathing ragged as she fought the emotions roiling in her.   
“Am I wrong? Have I misunderstood or misinterpreted what happened to you?” Mitch asked.   
She shook her head. “Whatever you think you know, you might as well hear the worst. There was nothing, I repeat nothing I didn't do to stay alive. If the situation warranted it, I did it...however gross, disgusting or perverted the requirement...I did it. However many men demanded it of me, I complied then scrubbed myself clean again afterward. I have fucked and been fucked by so many I lost count.” Her gaze turned glassy as she stared into the horrors of her past. “Even before the animal rebellion, I was beyond the pale, a creature of other people's pleasure or pain, the only difference between me and a whore was that I didn't get paid money for my services, I received bed and board instead. I didn't turn tricks, I changed owners, my only stipulation was to be fed and cared for, housed if possible, a bed sufficient if not. When the animals turned I was running with a man who regularly offered me to his mates as payment for services rendered. When he was killed, I was passed on to another who offered me as payment for anything from petrol to food, to anyone, any age, any ethnicity. I was currency and a good fuck on the side.” Her gaze sharpened and she focused her eyes on him. “I learned my worth, and a whole lot else.” She looked down for a moment, then back up at him. “Before Yellowstone, that was the first time I'd ever been alone in the past decade. Ethan didn't count, we never fucked, at least not recently, in fact not since he got me fired from my last legitimate job ten years ago.” She took a shaky breath before continuing. “I wasn't looking for anyone, but then Clem dragged me over to meet you. If I'd met Jackson first, or Abe I'd probably be with one or both of them right now, instead.”  
“No, you wouldn't.” Mitch interrupted. Jamie stared at him and frowned, confused. “Yes, I would.”  
Mitch sighed. “ Then I would have had to fight one or both of them to have you. You don't get it, do you?”  
Jamie shook her head.  
“I'm not prepared to give you up for anything or anyone. I don't care if you fucked the devil himself and all his minions, I am the last man.”  
A tear overflowed her eyelid and rolled down her face. “Why, Mitch?”  
He smiled, reaching across to capture the tear before it dripped off her chin. “Because I love you.”  
The words soaked into the seconds, hanging in the air as they stared at each other. Mitch spoke again.  
“I also think you are the bravest woman I have ever met, you are a survivor, a fighter and as beautiful inside as out.”  
Jamie felt her lips tremble and tried to get a hold of her tumultuous emotions. “I can't ever have children...” she blurted out, a sob catching her unawares. Mitch nodded as if the news was not unexpected.  
“I already have a child. I'm content with that.”  
She felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise up in her and swallowed it down. “I won't marry you.”   
Mitch never wavered. “Can I still buy you jewelry?”  
Jamie let out a burst of laughter, slapping her hand over her mouth to shut it off. “You're crazy.”  
He shrugged. “Not the first time I've heard that.” He slid out of his seat and held out his hand for her to take, drawing her out of the opposite seat to stand in front of him. Lifting his hands he cradled her face between them, wiping the moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs. If she felt any residual pain from the pressure on her skin she never noticed.   
“Know this, Jamie Campbell. While I have breath in my body, you will always be wanted by me, always loved by me, always protected by me. If we never have sex again, I will still want you to lie with me, sleep in my bed, be by my side. I will never let you down or abandon you while I live on this Earth. All that I have is yours to share, I only ask that you stand in as guardian of my Clem until she is of an age to take care of herself...probably when she turns fifty, should be soon enough.”  
Jamie laughed softly, Mitch grinning down at her, then his face sobered. “I pledge this from my heart.”  
She gulped and tried to find air to reply, but it was all too much and she simply stared up at him mutely, tears spilling over and finding a path down her face.   
“I'll take that as a yes,” Mitch whispered, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss, feeling her lips tremble and flutter under his. Her eyes were closed, the lashes spiky with moisture, her fingers wrapped around his forearms, holding on tightly as if she thought he'd evaporate if she didn't. He kissed her again, getting a response this time, her tongue coming out to meet his, lips moving and slanting to find better purchase. His hands left her face to allow him to wrap his arms around her, hers letting go only to reach up to fold around his neck and hold on, things becoming heated between them in a matter of seconds. He started to shuffle backward to the bedroom, Jamie following his lead, her fingers busy at his nape, her body bowed into his.

When they finally tumbled together onto the bed, clothes were being shed as fast as possible until the room was littered with them, naked limbs entwining together as each tried to get under the skin of the other and become one. There was no finesse, just a burning need to become one body, one spirit, one heartbeat. When he slid inside her, she was ready for him, enveloping his flesh in sweet, tight heat, her legs wrapping around his hips to keep him there. Despite the urge to plunder and ravage he kept his movement slow and measured, sinking in slowly and drawing out, taking care not to cause any further injury despite her mouth urging him on and testing his fortitude to take it slow. His unhurried lovemaking drove her wild, her lips, when not melded to his, spilling his name like heady wine, her body urging him to go faster, her moans begging him to never stop. When she cried out and clutched at him, he paused, letting her enjoy her climax, loving the flush of color that swept over her skin, his lips mapping the rosy flesh, his own still seated in hers. When her body went lax he brought himself to the edge, her legs pushed up high to seat him deeper until he gave a final thrust and spilled inside her, gasping and moaning his own ecstasy, his hips jerking, heart thumping. He grunted with each flex, a fleeting thought reminding him that no child would ever issue from their joining, a pang of regret making the moment bittersweet. He assumed she'd been damaged by a botched abortion at some time, given what she'd told him. He also remembered the first time they'd made love and she'd asked him if he wanted to be a father again. His answer at the time made him cringe now.   
His body softened and slipped from her, Mitch laying down beside Jamie, gathering her into his arms, loving the heady scent of her post-orgasmic skin, his nose buried in her glorious hair. She, in turn, nuzzled against him, her hands trapped against his chest, legs entwined.   
There was no need for any more words, their bodies speaking for them, reinforcing the bond between them, so tenuous and fragile yet more real than any engagement ring.

Mitch stared around at the assembled people, nerves making his guts roil as he waited his turn to speak. Jamie sat by his side, her hand in his, her face still hidden behind the scarf. The room probably held about a hundred people from the community, a long table at the head of the room seating twenty of the community leaders, the employment agent, Jeff Mason there as expected. The way thing worked appeared to be that anyone with a grievance, plea or suggestion could appear before the community leaders and plead their case, a judgment was made and that was that. In the case of a grievance, sometimes the decision would be deferred until both parties had said their piece, but only once did the entire table depart to another room to make a decision, and even then they were back within minutes to render a verdict. All decisions were final, no appeal no argument. The board was mixed in ages and genders, one or two looking like ex-lawyers or even judges, but no one owned up to that fact. It was also open voting in a lot of cases where a simple show of hands either from the head table or from the audience made or broke a decision. Even after having their case heard, the people stayed to hear what else was on the agenda. The number of plaintiffs was being dealt with relatively quickly, and Mitch knew his name would be called soon. When it was, he squeezed Jamie's hand and stood up. He'd already handed his accreditation to the board secretary when he arrived, it was now up to him to face their questions and plead his case. He stood in front of the table and met each of the community leader's eyes as they stared at him. The speaker cleared his throat and started to speak.  
“Doctor Morgan, welcome to our community. We have all had an opportunity to peruse your paperwork, and just have a few questions for you.”  
“Fine. Go ahead,” said Mitch. The speaker conferred briefly with those either side of him before turning back to Mitch.  
“You've asked to take over the former Walgreen Pharmacy on the corner of Palmetto Avenue and Manor Drive, is that correct?”  
“It is.”  
“And you intend to run both a doctors surgery and veterinary practice in the once building?”  
“That's the idea.”  
“Isn't it considered unhealthy to have animals and people mixed together like that?”  
“They are two quite different disciplines usually, but these are not usual times and I can't be in two places at one time. Depending on the layout of the building, I will keep the two types of patients separate and will never use the same equipment or surfaces for both at the same time, that's a given. But if I am to service both patients then I have to be on hand for emergencies as they arise. I am hoping to attract former vets and nursing staff to take over the running of the two areas needing me only to consult so I can concentrate on the neediest cases first.”  
One of the other people at the table spoke up.  
“Dr. Morgan. What do you consider more important, the needs of the animals or the needs of the people when it comes to deciding an emergency?”  
“Good question. In the case of life or death, people will come first, no hesitation. But if I have a waiting room full of patients with non-life threatening conditions, and an animal is brought in with life-threatening injuries and will die if I don't do something immediately, then the animal will be made a priority, in that situation. Patients, both animal and human, will be assessed on a priority basis, regardless of how long they've been waiting. I'm hoping that with the help of retired medical personnel that situation won't ever arise, but that will depend on the circumstances.”  
Mitch waited for the next question, the expressions of the community leaders giving nothing away.  
“Dr. Morgan, with the length of time since the last deliveries of medicine, many of the pills and whatnot will be past their use by date, plus with past looting, many medicines are missing or spoiled. What will you do if you diagnose a patient but don't have the medicine they need for their condition?”  
“This is a situation I've had to face many times in the past three years as I've traveled around the country and tried to help people. Many medicines, pills, ointments and liquids have indeed perished or gone beyond their usable life and there is nothing I can do about that. Until the pharmaceutical manufacturers and distributors come back online, we are looking at taking a step back to a situation similar to a hundred years ago, medically speaking. I am hoping that there is a local naturopath that will be able to provide natural solutions to fill some of the gaps missing, but as a society, we have become overly dependent on drugs to cure everything, both minor and terminal.” Mitch paused, again meeting the eyes of the people in front of him. “Any patient will be given the truth about their condition. If the medication is available it will be dispensed, if it is not, an alternative will be suggested, but if no medication is available and the condition is terminal, then palliative care will be made available along with ways to make their quality of life the best it can be for the time left. Anyone who doesn't trust the information I give them is more than welcome to get a second opinion from any of the operational hospitals in the area. Death is inevitable and we have put too much faith in drugs to extend our lives beyond what nature intended. I will only be able to work within the limits of resources I have available. I am not adverse to alternative medicinal practices if patients choose those rather than what I have to offer. They will, however, have to take responsibility for that choice. I'm not a miracle worker and can only recommend what's available or refer on to the hospitals. That hasn't changed from a hundred years ago to now.”  
The panel of leaders was silent for a moment before the next question was asked by the speaker.   
“I think we all understand what you are saying, Dr. Morgan. We have all had to accept limits on what we can and can't have or do in recent years. My last question is about those resources. How are you planning on stocking your surgery if, as you rightly pointed out, deliveries are slow in being restored?”  
“Easy. In the short term, I will implement a search of all pharmacies, medical facilities and doctors room in the local area and take whatever I can find to stock the shelves. When that is done, then I will ask that houses be searched for any medication left behind, any medical equipment or like to be found and brought in. The same applies to people who have lost anyone who they knew used medications for whatever reason, being it painkillers or cancer drugs. I've been told there are many empty houses, any one of which could hold a variety of medications, bandages, plasters, crutches, splints, limb support, neck braces and so on. In times of need, one has to be creative in sourcing what you need. I'm not suggesting looting for looting sake, I'm not interested in big screen televisions or people's jewelry or belongings, I'm only interested in finding what I can use to make someone's life better. If there's a local hardware store, that will also be a source of a ton of useful stuff for us to use, as well as a stationary warehouse.”  
“Dr. Morgan, we have rules in place to prevent exactly what you are suggesting, that said I can understand the sense in what you are proposing and we would create teams of responsible agents to carry out these searches as you suggest. Can I ask why the hardware store?”  
“Broken limbs need a cast, a cast needs plaster. I would have to include linen and cotton wool as another supply needed. I don't intend to replace what a hospital does, only supplement and treat what any general practice doctor would attempt.”  
“What about cosmetic surgery?” one of the women asked on the panel.   
“You mean breast implants and rhinoplasty's?” Mitch waited for the woman to nod. “Then nope, not touching that. I'm here for emergency medical help that needs more than a sticking plaster, but less than a full surgical team.”  
The community leader looked up and down the table. “Any more questions?” One member raised their hand.  
“Dr. Morgan, it was plain from the dates on the documents that you originally trained as a medical doctor before you switched tracks to become a veterinary pathologist. Why?”  
“Why did I change my doctorate?” Mitch asked.  
“Yes.”  
Mitch straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. “I had difficulty dealing with the relatives of patients when I had to deliver the news they didn't want to hear. To be able to do that day after day in a busy hospital was beyond my ability to do so. I saw other doctors do that, by hiding their true feelings under a layer of professionalism, and I have the greatest respect for anyone who can do that. I couldn't. Every parent that I had to tell that their child had died or was terminal shattered me, and I had difficulty recovering. I couldn't grow the hard shell needed to deal with this day after day. So I left before completing my residency and went into veterinary pathology that didn't require me to see or speak to the patients or their relatives, it only required me to find out what was wrong and how to treat it.”  
The room was silent, the people in front of him silently judging his response. The speaker cleared his throat. “Thank you, Dr. Morgan, for your candid answer. Please be seated and we will deliberate our decision and have an answer for you in short order.” He raised a gavel and banged in on the desk, the people at the table getting up and filing out of the room. Muttered and low voiced conversations broke out among those left behind, Mitch sitting down with a thump, Jamie finding his hand and tangling her fingers with his. He turned to her and raised their joined hands, kissing her fingers, thankful for her presence.   
They had to wait half an hour for the community leaders to return from their deliberations, Mitch not sure if that was a good sign or bad. When they eventually filed in and sat down, he was called to stand before them.   
“Dr. Morgan, we have discussed everything that was raised and your answers to questions asked. There have been many times when a doctors help and advise was sorely needed, and it would be foolish of us to turn down the opportunity to have a resident medical center up and running for the benefit of all. There are still a few more questions to be raised and answered, but I can tell you at this stage, you have the conditional support of our entire board in setting up a combined medical and veterinary practice in the former Walgreen pharmacy building.”  
Mitch, who had been holding himself tensely, let his shoulder relax and grinned at the speaker, who smiled back, along with all the others at the top table as well. Jamie was suddenly standing beside him and he wrapped her in his arms before kissing her after pulling down the scarf to do so. The people who had stayed to hear the verdict were clapping and whooping as well, everyone well aware that having a medical center up and running went a long way to bringing normal back.

The speaker came up to Mitch and introduced himself as Alf Baker, former justice of the peace and car mechanic, before shaking his hand.  
“We still have several matters that need to be thrashed out, as I'm sure you're aware, but for now we are grateful you decided to settle here, in Westview.”  
Over the next quarter of an hour, Mitch had his hand shaken by every member of the community board, Jeff Mason handing back the folder of paperwork Mitch had provided. “Especially impressed with the presidential award, Dr. Morgan. Should have that framed and on the wall.”  
“I'll probably do that,” Mitch assured him. When everyone had been introduced and the room started to empty, Mitch and Jamie walked out, hand in hand, to face a clear night and dry walk back home.   
“I think that went well,” he said, pulling her in close with an arm around her shoulders.   
“They loved you. All Dr. Morgan this, and Dr. Morgan that...you were a celebrity.”  
“I must have impressed the hell out of them to let me do everything I want to do.”  
“Well, they did say conditional...”  
“They did. Guess we'll find out what those conditions are over the next few days.”  
They walked swiftly, several other people walking the same way until they reached the gate to the RV park. The owner came out to let them in, locking it behind them once they were inside.   
Back at the Airstream, they found Clem turning up the gas to bring the kettle back to the boil, hugging her father when he told her he got the go-ahead on the pharmacy.   
“Never doubted it.”  
“Then you had more faith than me!” Mitch retorted, adjusting his glasses.   
Jamie sat down. “You should have seen your father, Clem. He had them in the palm of his hand, no problem. Even the audience hung on every word.”  
“Now you're just exaggerating. There's still a ton of stuff to be worked out, so early days, but I'm confident we'll get there.”  
Clem clapped her hands and went in for a hug, Jamie getting up and coming forward as well, the three of them all wrapped up together, about to start a new a whole new phase of their lives.

Approximately six months later....Spring 2019, San Francisco.

Mitch was in the plaster room wrapping to immobilize a broken radius belonging to an unrepentant twelve-year-old.  
“If it itches, do not poke anything down the plaster, you could puncture the skin, which in turn could become infected and then I'll have to cut your arm off.”  
The youngster stared up at him, his former scowling expression changed to one of alarm. “How long before it comes off?”  
“Ten weeks, minimum,” Mitch told him, coming to the end of the plaster soaked bandage. He spent a few minutes smoothing the plaster of Paris over the length of the arm and around the thumb, folding over the inner socking fabric left to finish off the edges smoothly. “Do not pick at the edges, don't try and dig into the plaster sleeve, do not get it wet. Do you think you can manage that?”  
The boy screwed up his face. “What if it rains?”  
“Stay under cover, or use your jacket or a plastic bag. If you mess with this, I'll just have to cut it all off and do it again, only next time there won't be any nice painkillers to numb it while I pull your arm about.” Mitch patted down the last edge and stepped back. “There, that'll do.” Going over to the sink he washed off his hands and arms and peeled off the plastic apron.   
“Can I go now?” the boy asked. Mitch eyed his reluctant patient with a raised eyebrow.   
“No. You can sit there while the plaster dries, and don't try and carve your name or anything else in it, I will see if you do. Understand?”  
The boy nodded reluctantly, fidgeting on the bench even as Mitch left the room. Outside, his mother sat on a chair looking harassed.   
“He's all done,” Mitch told her. “I've set the bone and put a cast on to keep it straight. I've told him what not to do, but if you think the cast if looking battered or tatty, bring him back and I'll do it again. Alright?”  
The woman stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. Not sure he'll slow down much, but I'll do my best.”  
Mitch patted her on the shoulder and explained that her son needed to stay until the plaster set, letting her in to see her tree climbing Tarzan.  
Making his way out to the waiting room he saw that the space was empty except for Jamie sitting at the desk. “Nobody else to see?”  
Jamie looked up and smiled. “Nope. All done as far as appointments go. Plus the market it shutting up early today because of the storm warnings.”  
“And yet I was told that spring was the best time of year for hereabouts.”  
“Might also have something to do with that traveling circus being in town,” Jamie suggested, standing up to file the last of her patient folders onto the shelf. Mitch watched appreciatively as she stretched up to the top shelf, her top lifting leaving a wide strip of pale skin between it and her jeans.   
“You know you could help rather than just stand there and ogle.”  
Mitch grinned and stepped forward, plucking the folder out of her hand and slotting it in place with ease. Jamie watched him with her arms folded over her chest. When Mitch looked at her again she raised an eyebrow at him, eyes twinkling.  
“I couldn't help myself, I love your skin!” He tried to look repentant and failed, deciding to use distraction as his defense. “C'mere..” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He bent his head to kiss her, her arms reaching up to wind around his neck as she succumbed to his persuasion. They had barely pressed lip to lip when the door blew open and Clem rushed in a bit like a mini-tornado.  
“For crap's sake, do you two ever stop?” her plaintive voice drew two pairs of mildly irate eyes to rake over her. Mitch and Jamie stepped apart.  
“Nice to see you too, Clem. Had a good day?” her father asked, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.   
“It was okay. It'll be a lot better when you two get your act together and get ready to leave.”  
Mitch looked over at Jamie, his face screwing up as if thinking hard. “Do we have somewhere we need to be?” he asked. Jamie canted her head at him and smiled.  
“Don't tease,” she scolded him. “We'll nearly done here, Clem, just waiting for one patient to go and we're ready, okay?”  
“Okay. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”  
Mitch and Jamie watched the youngster whirl out of the room, the door banging behind her.  
“You sure you want to go?” Mitch asked, perching his hip on the side of the desk.  
Jamie looked up at him. “We've earned a break, Mitch. So has Clem. It'll be fun!”  
“I guess, there's been little enough entertainment since we set up here, so a night at the circus should take our minds off stuff for a while.”  
The stuff he referred to covered a whole host of disruptions the community of Westview had come up against over the winter months. The Bay area was known for having mild winters, but someone forgot to tell the weather gods, who rained down sleet and hailstones to make life miserable for the survivors of the animal pandemic. Electricity was still more of a luxury than a reliable service, mobile phones, unlike landlines, were useless for anything other than taking pictures while the signal coverage remained confined to city centers only. There was just too much to be repaired, too many spare parts not available or qualified servicemen to effect the repairs. In the months they'd been on the west coast life had become both better and worse. The setting up of the medical and veterinary rooms had taken a month before the doors opened for customers, although any real emergencies were dealt with as the need arose despite not being fully up and running. Once the clinic was open for business a hesitant start turned into a trickle of patients, then a flood. For anyone other than emergencies, they had to wait their turn for the day their name fell into to come up. They trialed an alphabetical system at first, then changed that to a numerical system a month later, comparing the two to see which worked better. In the end the numerical was chosen, Mitch able to see a certain number of patients a day, allowing time for any emergencies to be attended as, and when, they arose. The same applied to the veterinary side of the business, although that was less well patronized due to the smaller demand and fewer pets, although dogs were making a comeback. Cats had largely gone feral, taking advantage of the huge explosion of rodents and taking care of themselves quite nicely, but slowly they too were integrating back into the lives of people. Due to the domestic animal overpopulation, Mitch had instigated a trapping and de-sexing policy that employed youngsters to earn a little money or credits setting up and monitoring the traps and bringing in the animals, often on a daily basis. Another building had to be appropriated to house the influx of animals, mostly kittens, and puppies, that were waiting to be rehomed or desexed. Children flocking to visit the pet shop, bringing any food they'd scavenged around the district for the animal's to eat. The few farm animals found within the suburb were mostly chickens, a small herd of dairy cows, goats, ducks, and sheep. The hoofed animals were grazed on vacant plots, public parks, school playing fields, large gardens or anywhere with a decent amount of fodder. Chickens and ducks were largely allowed to roam free, children again employed to gather eggs or report injured or ill animals, Mitch having a reliable network of junior reporters giving him a broader picture of animals in the district and their owners.   
He also had a collection of specialized scroungers to find and collect from private and business premises anything associated with animal feed or medicine, and human medicine. Whenever they started to run low, Mitch sent out his finders who invariably came back with carloads, sometimes trailer loads of finds. His initial ideas were bearing phenomenal fruit, not only for his practice but for the wider community. The market still thrived, but the winter months were leaner than the summer, with fresh produce becoming scarce and still no sign of deliveries to the suburbs of tinned goods or other produce. Again, Mitch's collectors were given the equivalent of shopping lists, sent out to scour where they could to find everything from tinned goods, to toilet paper and everything in between, setting up a stall to share out the finds for a fraction of their original value. The credits and coins raised were shared among the collectors, providing them with both an incentive and an income. They also policed themselves and came down hard on any member of the squad who abused their system of rules and morals. The income also went towards funding a cleanup crew for when a body, either human or animal was found on premises, the crew going in and disposing of the remains by burying them in the property's garden and marking the grave using information found in the house. It was more than many around the country were given. Having seen the way it was handled elsewhere, it didn't take much pursuading to implement a more humane system within the wider community. When his spare time was quickly taken up by his patients, Jackson and Abe stepped in to manage the many groups of collectors, scroungers, and general helpers, organizing the areas to be searched, where they'd already been, and where they still had to cover. Used to managing groups of tourists, it was no great leap to use their skills in the coordinating the new regimes. Cars were used sparingly, despite them having ready access to a gas station nearby, the last delivery had been over a year ago and petrol, like beer, was not a commodity that kept well. Parts and tires to service a fleet of vehicles were also in short supply, so travel further afield was kept to a minimum.   
Mitch's idea of employing retired medical staff had proved slow to get off the ground as he had to build a basis of trust with those few that came forward for consideration. Now though, he had a support staff on both sides of the business, and even some trainees learning on the job under the retiree's guidance. Mitch no longer had to call a Community Meeting to enact a change or make a decision, his leadership and obvious competency quickly won the leaders over and they gave him carte blanche to do pretty much anything he wanted.   
It had been a busy, but very satisfying six months and the arrival of a traveling circus, with accompanying zoo, was just what the doctor ordered to celebrate their success and the arrival of spring. 

It looked like most of the people in and around Westview had turned up for the event. The circus tent was set up in a local football stadium at the Oceana High School, covering half of the ground with its gaily striped red-white-and-blue canvas with flags at the top of the main poles. Circus's of this style had largely been phased out in the US and around the world, opting for more formalised entertainment using existing venues, but now the old ways were creeping back, a generator allowing a stereo to pump out music, further enticing the audience to come and see what all the noise was about. Around the tent were canvas stalls set up to sell trinkets and toys, a few fairground games and novelties, thankfully excluding any human curiosities. More generators powered spotlights, lifting the gloom of the overcast afternoon, strings of colored lights and bunting looped between the posts adding to the festive air. People milled around the stalls, laughter ringing out, Mitch coaxed into trying his hand at a 'Ring the Bell' game, making the bell ring out, Jamie and Clem applauding loudly as he accepted the stuffed animal handed to him as his prize. Behind a canvas wall was the circus zoo, promising wonders and curiosities, Mitch not looking forward to seeing animals caged but resigning himself to it for the time being. At least if he saw an obvious need for veterinary services he was in a position to offer them. As expected, the cages were not overly large and sat up on trailers for easy movement. Some animals, particularly the herbivores were standing around cropping the grass within a pen, out of the cage at least. There were no lions or tigers, thankfully, but they saw monkeys, horses, llamas, alpacas, even an impressively horned mountain goat, but it was the pen hidden behind a teasing canvas curtain that intrigued him the most. This one you had to pay to get in, so he handed over the required coins and walked through, Jamie and Clem at his side. He almost choked on his suddenly indrawn breath of surprise when he saw what the circus claimed were creatures beyond belief.   
“Oh, my God!” Jamie exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the creature peacefully munching on a bale of straw. A huge, horned beast with thick plates of leathery hide edged by dark, coarse black mane adorned what looked like a mutated Rhinoceros, a huge, wickedly pointed horn at the end of its nose, a shorter one further up the forehead, along with two tusks, not coming from the mouth, on either side of the lower jaw. The legs were longer than a Rhino's and the feet different at first glance, a closer inspection would determine if they matched the ones they'd seen at Yellowstone. The creature calmly munched its fodder, eyes gazing off into nothing, certainly not seeing the crowd gathered to stare at it in wonder and some fear. Mitch frowned and looked the animal over with a medically trained eye, noting several things that didn't add up.   
“What is it?” Jamie asked, her voice low. “What do you see?”  
“It's drugged. They've drugged the animal to keep it placid. I'd be surprised if it even knows any of us are here,” Mitch replied, his words for her ears only. The animal's ears twitched back and forth, obviously hearing them but too drugged up to take fright or care. Mitch noticed a pile of dung deposited off to the side and he made his way through the crowd to reach it. From his ever-present satchel, he took a medium sized ziplock back, turning it inside out before reaching forward and grabbing a handful of the dung, reversing the bag and quickly zipping it shut before stuffing it into his bag. The keeper, more interested in stopping anyone from getting close, didn't even see him. Mitch steered his small family out of the canvas enclosure and they moved on to the next one. Again they found a mutated hybrid behind the pay-to-view entrance. This time it was a snarling version of the strange creature that had caused the accident in the desert. This one was very much alive and behind bars, as well as a glass shield, the blurb posted on the wall saying the creature could spit venom as well as give a nasty bite, advising patrons to stay well back. There were posters extolling no photos, but that didn't stop Mitch from getting out his notebook and taking a quick sketch of the hybrid, as well as any information on the notice boards and his own observations.   
“Let's see what else they have...” he whispered to Jamie, Clem following them out of the tent to the next one. This one contained a tall cage with a huge bird inside, the wingspan alone marking it as a world beater, the long neck similar to that of a vulture, its raucous cawing painful to the ears. There was not enough room for it to spread its wings to a full stretch and Mitch suspected there was a good reason for this. The scattered remains of small mammals on the cage floor marked it as a carnivore, possibly a carrion eater, at the very least a dangerous animal with a beak like a giant bone crusher. That proved to be the last of the curiosities so they made their way back to the first so that Mitch could take a sketch and make notes. That done they heard over the loudspeaker that the performance was about to start, Clem all but dragging her father and Jamie to get them to go faster towards the entrance to get inside.   
As the show kicked off, Mitch was still scribbling in his notebook, paying little attention to the literal dog and pony show taking place in the ring. Clem was engrossed in the performance, clapping and laughing as the dogs and tiny horses went through their routines, Jamie caught between the pair, looking worriedly at Mitch while smiling at Clem's obvious delight in the fun and games. As the performance moved on to jugglers and acrobats Mitch finally closed his journal and put it back in his satchel, turning his attention to the performers. He watched what was going on in the ring, but his mind was sorting through how he could his hands on samples from the creatures they'd seen being touted as wonders and curiosities. His information on the hybrids to date was limited to what he'd managed to find out from the two dead animals, the Razorback and the Hairy Reptile, to date. Now he had the possibility of getting his hands on a living, breathing specimen, able to get DNA material, blood and other fluids, a complete mapping of the creatures mutations and the rest. He just had to find an angle that would convince the circus owner to allow him access.  
Putting his plan of attack on hold, he sat back and enjoyed the rest of the show, delighting in Clem's obvious pleasure, holding hands with Jamie and laughing along with the audience. When it was all over he waited until nearly all the audience had filed out of the tent before making his way down to ringside to find whoever was in charge. Jamie had taken Clem to meet up with some friends afterward and to get a souvenir from one of the booths while he had his talk.   
“Excuse me, the public isn't allowed back here!” a shrill female voice assaulted Mitch as he crossed the sanded floor of the ring.   
“Hi. My name if Mitch Morgan, I'm a local veterinarian...” his introduction was instantly cut off.  
“We don't need any busybody poking his nose into our business, our animals are just fine, now hive off!”  
Mitch grinned to himself. “I'm not here to lay any complaint. I've seen your animals and they all look just as you say. I just wish to speak to whoever is running the show.”  
The woman, she'd been part of the bareback riding team, eyed him suspiciously. “What about?”  
“Your curiosities. I want to ask if I can take some samples, to study them.”  
She looked at him, her lip curled up in disdain. “And just what makes you think we'd let you take anything from our mutants?”  
“Because you have one I've never seen before, one I tracked north of here but never saw, and the other I've only seen dead. If I knew where they were trapped, what they had been hybridized with, and was able to create a DNA profile we might eventually find out who made them and what impact they will have on the native animal populations and on human communities.”  
The woman blinked at him for a moment, slightly in awe that he hadn't treated her as anything other than an equal. She decided there and then he was a man to trust. Standing straighter and dropping her rough accent she held out her hand.   
“Kelly Brandon, owner of this circus company. Would I be right in thinking this is more than just a casual curiosity?”  
Mitch shook her hand, raising an eyebrow at her change of posture and accent. “Doctor Mitch Morgan, veterinary pathologist. Yes, this is more than just an idle interest. I'm concerned that having survived one animal pandemic, we're not overtaken by another, this one man-made.”  
Kelly looked him over, admiring his candor. “I appreciate you being straight up with me, Dr. Morgan.”  
Mitch smiled thinly. “I noticed you have the big guy under some heavy sedation.”  
Kelly nodded. “He's a bastard and extremely aggressive, far more than his probable origin, the African white Rhino. You'll need to sedate them all if you want to get close, the bird's wing alone can kill a man, and that beak is deadly. The reptile mixup spits venom and has savage teeth,” she informed him.  
“Fortunately I have a range of tranquilizers to choose from and a support staff to help,” Mitch told her. Kelly looked him over, seeing the intelligence in his eyes behind the lenses.   
“I'm sure you do. Come to my office and I'll fill you in on how we got our hands on the brutes.”  
Mitch indicated behind him. “I just have some people waiting on me. If you can wait a moment?”  
“Sure. Take your time. I'll be right here.” She looked at him shrewdly as he turned away, her eyes sizing him up and liking what she saw. 

Mitch saw Jamie and Clem and hurried over to them. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I've met the owner and she's going to tell me how they trapped the creatures, plus I have permission to take samples from the hybrids.” He was almost buzzing with excitement and Jamie smiled to see it.   
“That's great news. Do you want us to wait for you?” she asked.  
“No. It'll be dark soon, so if you start now you'll be back in plenty of time. I'll be back as soon as I've found out everything I can and made a time to come back and take the samples.”  
Jamie nodded. “Okay. See you later, then.” she leaned in for a kiss, Mitch brushing her lips with his before turning to give Clem a kiss on the forehead.   
“Keep something warm for me, I'll be back in a couple of hours.” Then he was off jogging back into the big top, eager to start on finding out everything the woman, Kelly could tell him about the hybrids.   
Jamie turned back to Clem, the girl hugging the soft toy her father had won earlier. “Guess it's just us. Come on, we might just be able to catch up with your friends if we hurry.”

Mitch found an assistant waiting to lead him to Kelly's caravan, a large comfortable RV set among her performer's vehicles on the other side of the big top away from the animals enclosures. Kelly was sitting at a side table dressed in a silk wrap, cleaning the makeup off her skin. Her sequinned costume hung from a hanger suggesting that she was wearing nothing under the wrap. Mitch noticed none of that, pulling his journal out of his bag and preparing to take down the details about the hybrids, his focus totally on them. Kelly saw his absorption and decided to test just how deep it went. Having cleaned off her stage makeup and taken off her costume, she wasn't entirely naked under the wrap, but it looked like she was. She turned and let the edges of the wrap fall either side of her thighs as she reached down to take off her slippers, tossing them to land in the corner. Then she reached up to unpin her hair, the long glossy black locks falling about her shoulders in sumptuous abandon, reaching almost to her waist. Taking a brush, she started to give her mane a slow brush, long strokes that teased out the strands, only for them to bounce back into their usually wavy style.   
Mitch looked up from his journal, preparing to fire a number of questions at the woman only to find her sitting in a provocative pose, long legs crossed at the knee, brushing her head of thick black hair, her face in profile. Mitch smiled wryly to himself. He'd been the focus of many an infatuation when he used to lecture, from both girls and boys, and recognized the attention seeking actions for what they were. Instead of calling her on it, he simply cleared his throat and kept his expression bland.   
“If we could start with the Rhinoceros hybrid...where did you capture that?”

Mitch remained in the caravan for nearly two hours, Kelly giving up her attempts at enticing him within five minutes, eventually pulling her wrap around her and settling on a couch, her legs drawn up and demurely tucked under her body. She had told him all she knew about the mutant animals and their capture, plus behavior as told to her by the animal handlers, now they sat and enjoyed a drink before Mitch had to leave to return home.   
“Are these animals really the threat you think they are?” she asked.   
“I think that any animal introduced to an environment that is not their natural habitat is asking for all sorts of problems, not just for the native species that become competition for the same resources, but also the effect they have on the environment itself. Who knows what types of bacteria or organisms these creatures are introducing, or what long-term consequences they'll have on species already on the brink of extinction due to habitat destruction or food shortages.”  
“Sounds pretty serious,” Kelly observed, taking in his obvious passion for his subject.   
“It is potentially disastrous, which is why I'm trying to gather as much information as possible. We need to find out where these intruders are coming from and stop any more from being introduced and upsetting what is already a precarious recovery of the animal kingdom.”  
“A one-man crusade to save the world?” Kelly joked, giving him a half smile.  
“Oh, I have a few helpers. Look, thank you for all that information, it will create a much more detailed picture of these animals and possibly help when it comes to hunting and containing them.”  
“You are very welcome, Mitch. We'll be here for a few weeks, giving performances and also resting, so let me know when you want to do that sampling, you'll have the aid of the handlers as well as anyone you need to help out.”  
“Thank you. I'd better be off now and get home. If you hadn't already heard, the weather is supposed to turn to shit over the next couple of days, so check your guy ropes and keep a watch on your animals.” He got up to leave. Kelly stayed on the sofa and raised her glass to him.  
“Look forward to seeing you again soon, Mitch. Always a pleasure to entertain a handsome and intelligent man for an evening. They are such a rare combination these days.”  
Mitch gave a short laugh and picked up his satchel. “I'll be back once I have the necessary equipment and tranquilizers sorted out.”  
“Bye, Mitch,” Kelly drawled, letting out a sigh of disappointment when the door shut firmly behind him. She wasn't used to being rebuffed so thoroughly, albeit politely, she must be losing her touch. 

Mitch walked back through the darkened street, one out of ten houses showing a light, the surviving streetlights doing little to lighten the enveloping gloom of the moonless, cloudy night. He pulled his collar up as the rising wind tugged at his coat and teased his scarf out to flutter behind him. He was lucky his feet knew the way back to the RV camp because his thoughts were all on the information he'd learned about the hybrids and their distribution. He'd have to ask if anyone had seen or knew where he could find a large map of the states so he could start mapping where these creatures were appearing. If they could pinpoint where their origin or birthplace was, they could possibly trace where their creator was based, and wouldn't he want to be in on that discovery! A gust of wind made him stagger as he rounded a corner, the RV park in sight when he started to cross the pedestrian bridge over the freeway below, crossing from Oceana Boulevard to Palmetto Avenue. All the local lights were broken, which meant the narrow bridge was dark, his only guide a hand on the railing. There were no steps to worry about, just the downward spiral on the other side. He was halfway across when a sound pulled him from his introspection. Below, the occasional streetlamp at the edge of the freeway illuminated patches of the road surface. Even as he stared, one of the lights was snuffed out, the wind starting to seriously pull at his clothes, buffeting him on the exposed span of the bridge. Another lonely streetlamp fluttered and died as something barrelled along the freeway, destroying what little evidence of civilization was left. Mitch was hanging on to the metal railing with both hands, the open metalwork providing no shelter from strengthening gusts, only when the last feeble streetlight before the pedestrian overpass illuminated the edge of a whirling mass of air before being snuffed out did his brain finally work out what was bearing down on him. In a last desperate move, he took off his glasses and stuffed them in his bag to protect them, then he crouched down and threaded his arms through the metal bars and hung on. The scream of the wind as it hit the bridge was deafening, the span of metal and concrete shuddering under the impact, lifting and bucking as the force of tornado tried to twist it off its foundations. The hunched figure on the bridge felt the wall of air and debris slam into him and try to wrench him away from his precarious perch, the surface beneath him shaking and threatening to dump him off if he ever let go. He had a brief moment of respite when the eye passed over but it was only seconds before the back wall hit the weakened bridge, tearing it apart and flinging him into the air.


	9. Lost and Found

Abe opened the door to the RV to find an agitated Jamie standing at the bottom of the steps.   
“Jamie? Come in. What is the matter?” He waited for her to get inside then shut the door behind her. The wind had got up and was trying to yank the door out of his hand.   
“Mitch is missing.”  
Abe turned to stare at her but didn't question her statement.  
“How long for?”  
“Clem and I left him at the circus to speak to the owner about the hybrids...”  
Abe goggled at her. “There are hybrids at the circus?” he asked. Jamie flapped her hands.  
“That's not important right now. We left him there around seven and expected him to be back by now, but he hasn't come home yet.”  
Abe looked at the clock on the microwave, noting it was now eleven. “Could he have just been caught up and forgotten the time?”  
“I thought that too, so I...I went back, and asked after him.”  
Abe's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “You went out in this? On your own?” he took a closer look at her and noted she was wet through. He went to a cupboard and pulled out a towel. “Here, dry yourself.”  
The door opened down the end of the RV and Jackson appeared, still dressed in t-shirt and jeans, but barefoot.   
“What's going on?”  
Abe turned towards him. “Apparently Mitch is missing. Jamie says he's not at the circus where she left him, and he hasn't come home.”  
Jackson glanced at the clock, Abe interpreting the look and answering before his friend could ask.   
“No, he hasn't just forgotten the time.”  
Jamie interrupted. “I spoke to the owner of the circus. I had to wake her up. She said he left around nine and even walking he should have been back before ten.”  
Jackson stood, his hands on his hips, pondering the alternatives. “He wouldn't have gone to his office for anything?”  
Jamie shook his head. “Not without letting us know. He asked we keep something hot for him. I'm sure he expected to be home long before this.” She had started to shiver, the cold and worry combining to send chills up her back. In an effort to combat them she wrapped her arms about her body and bit her bottom lip.   
“Okay. So he would have walked from the high school to here, that only means a choice of a couple of routes if he was coming straight back. That won't be hard to search.” Jackson looked over at Jamie, noting her white face and poorly concealed shaking. “Look, get back to your RV and get dry. We need someone there in case he comes back and we miss his return, alright?”  
Jamie nodded, not sure she could stop her teeth chattering if she spoke.   
“Good. Abe and I will go look for Mitch. He may have taken shelter along the way in this weather. As you've already gone via one route, tell me the way you went and we'll try an alternative, cover more ground that way.”  
Jamie managed to detail the way she'd gone, over the road bridge and straight down Ocean Boulevard to the high school where the circus was camped. She explained that most of the streetlights seemed to be out making the trip almost pitch black under the overcast sky. Jackson marveled that she'd undertaken the trip back at all, given the potential threats to anyone on their own, even if only from wandering dog packs. He supposed that the foul weather had driven anything potentially dangerous or likely to attack under cover, in this case allowing Jamie free passage. It had still been a risky trip, one he and Abe would undertake suitably armed and prepared for the worst.   
Sending Jamie off with reassurances they'd find Mitch and give him a bollocking for worrying her, they set about equipping themselves before setting off to search for their friend. Chloe appeared and offered to go with them, but was refused. Dariela had been roused by the subsequent curfuffle and made the same offer, the guys suggesting that going over and keeping Jamie and Clem company would probably be a better use of their time. If Jackson and Abe couldn't find Mitch, then a more comprehensive search would need to be made, then the woman would assuredly be a part of that without question. For now, the two friends would see what could be found and report back without delay. Equipped and clothed for the weather, the two men parted company from Chloe and Dariela, who headed for the Airstream, while the men jogged to the park gate, waking up the camp owner to let them out. 

The wind was still forceful, buffeting the men as they made their way along Palmetto Avenue, running parallel with the freeway on the ocean side.   
“There seems to be a great deal of debris strewn about,” Abe observed, raising his voice to be heard over the whistling of the wind in the power lines. Jackson crossed the road to see down into the deep cutting that was the freeway running below, no sign of any traffic, which wasn't unusual this late at night but also seeing several of the tall streetlights laying bent and twisted on the road itself.  
“Remember that noise we heard earlier this evening?” Jackson shouted, sweeping his torch light up and down the road below.   
“Yeah?”   
“I think it was something more than a cold front going over.”  
Abe joined him and peered down at the freeway underpass, noting the torn up surface and level of debris over the area.   
“Do they get tornado's in California?” Abe asked, sounding incredulous.  
“Probably not like the ones they get in Kansas, but I'd put my money on this damage being caused by something a bit more substantial than a dust devil.”  
They carried on, walking on the freeway side of the road above, flashing their torch lights down onto the two lanes below until they got close to the pedestrian overbridge.   
“Shouldn't there be a bridge around here?” Jackson asked, sending his torch beam further down the freeway. More downed poles and lights were littering the road, but there was no sign of the overpass. Soon they drew level to where the walkway should have been. Instead, there was nothing to see but the concrete base, where twisted metal supports jutted up into the dark, all sign of the spiral, railings or any other metalwork vanished. They moved to peer down into the freeway and saw evidence of what had happened, smashed concrete and debris littered and blocked the road below, their torches shining over to the other side and seeing the same level of destruction there as well.   
“Good God!” Abe exclaimed. “If anyone was on that bridge when the tornado struck...”  
“Yeah,” Jackson added. “God help him.” They both started to call his name, the wind snatching their words away as they frantically searched the ground for any evidence of Mitch's whereabouts. Tons of shredded vegetation, tree branches and in some cases whole trees, were covering the ground past the bridge, hinting that the tornado had petered out and dropped its load of debris at the same time. Sheets of concrete peeled off the overbridge lay everywhere, bits of mangled railing still attached but bent like putty into fantastic shapes. Their torches dances over the devastation, all the time calling Mitch's name in the hope he was able to reply.   
Abe found him, a flash of torchlight on pale skin pinpointing where he lay, pinned under a length of bridge debris, only his hand visible laying palm up on the wet tarmac.   
“Jackson! I've found...someone,” Abe shouted, setting the torch down and starting to lift off the debris and tossing it aside. Jackson quickly joined him and they worked to clear a space, no evidence of sound or movement from whoever was flattened by the piece of bridge structure.   
The piece was too big for either or both of the men to lift, so Abe found a length of metal rod and used it like a lever, putting every ounce of his considerable strength behind it to lift the edge of the platform sufficiently for Jackson to drag the man out from underneath. It took Abe several seconds to lift it high enough, but Jackson was quick and pulled the body out and clear, Abe letting the rod go, the damaged pathway crashing down onto the road again and further breaking into pieces. He turned to look at Jackson, who was bent over the man he'd pulled out. It was Mitch.   
“Is he breathing?” Abe asked, crouching down and playing the torchlight over their friend.   
“Barely.” Jackson quickly felt down each of Mitch's limbs, checking for breaks or bones sticking out. Finding nothing, he bent and listened for a heartbeat, finding it steady but slow. “I think he's just knocked out, which is a fucking miracle if you ask me. Nothing appears to be broken, but he's got a lump on his forehead and he's soaked to the bone.”  
Together, the two men worked to create a stretcher, having brought the item needed for such. When it was assembled they rolled Mitch onto the material, covered him with a blanket and bent to lift him up. That done they started on the slow trek back to the RV park. 

Chloe was sitting up to the table, her arm around Clem, hugging the girl who looked wan and tired. Jamie was chewing the edge of her thumb, having changed into dry clothes, but unable to settle while they waited for news. It had been an hour since the two men left to search and her fears had grown exponentially. Suddenly Clem, who had been watching out of the window towards the campground gate, let out a shout.   
“They're back!”  
Everyone piled out of the Audra Two and raced across the parking lot to where the two men trudged along with the stretcher. They paused while Chloe and Dariela each took a corner, the four carrying the injured man to the RV before putting him on the ground. Abe lifted the unconscious man easily and hefted him into the campervan and down to the bedroom, holding him upright while Jamie quickly divested Mitch of his soaked clothes down to his boxers. That done they maneuvered him between them onto the bed and under the covers, his head lolling on the pillows. Clem handed Jamie a towel and she dried Mitch's hair until it was only damp, careful not to put pressure on the wound, the raised bump on his forehead that had a split in the skin across the crown that in the warmer air started to seep blood again. While his friends crowded the door to the bedroom, Clem and Jamie put a dressing on the bump and wrapped a bandage around his head to keep it in place.   
Jackson suddenly spoke up. “You'll need to warm him up as quickly as possible. He may have mild hyperthermia from laying out there in the wet.”  
“We'll do that. Clem, strip down to your underwear and get into the bed. I'll join you shortly.” She turned to usher the others out. “Thank you both for finding him for me. I need to get him warm, but I'm not stripping down for an audience.”  
Jackson and Abe immediately started to make apologetic noises, beating a retreat to the outside door, Chloe and Dariela hugging Jamie before doing the same. With departing comments about checking up on them in the morning, they all left, Jamie locking the door before starting to take off her clothes down to the skin and joining Clem, laying on the other side of Mitch from his daughter, the two of them clutching his cold body, ignoring the chill, willing their body heat to soak into him as quickly as possible. 

Mitch was dreaming that he was laying in the dirt, surrounded by desert, the sun burning a hole in his skin. For some reason he was naked, his mouth dry and his bladder screaming for attention. His head seemed to be several sizes too big and he had trouble lifting it to see where he was, his eyes gritty and sore. Knowing he had to get up, he awoke with a start, his head instantly starting to pound as memory tried to fill in the gaps. He was in his bed, laying on his side and light was just starting to leak through the blinds on the windows. He took a deep breath and instantly inhaled strands of red-gold hair, the aroma of warm woman easily recognizable. What confused him for a moment was the heat blazing down his back coming from another body, logic suggesting from the height and snuffling noises that it was Clem snugged up against him. For some reason he was part of a sandwich of bodies, one pressed to his front, the other curled up behind. Not that it was unpleasant to feel so warm after nearly freezing....his thoughts sudden stopped. He remembered he'd been freezing cold and wet through after the tornado plucked him off the bridge and slammed him into the ground, a section of the bridge landing on him, only prevented from flattening him entirely by a small mound of debris giving him breathing room. He'd been awake enough to wonder if anyone would find him buried as he was, then it was a blank until he awoke a few seconds ago. Obviously, he had been found and taken back to his RV to recover. He tested his arms and legs and found them free of bandaging or breaks, sore and bruised maybe but nothing broken. His back and front felt equally afflicted, the result of being flung through the air, buffeted by the wind and debris before being dumped with all the other rubbish when the tornado dissipated. He wondered if his bag was still intact with all his notes and his glasses. He had spares of his glasses, but the notes were more valuable. If they hadn't been brought back with him, he'd have to go and search for the bag before too much time passed and everything was ruined.   
His full bladder reminded him he needed to get up or very soon he'd embarrass himself and wet the bed.   
“Jamie?” he whispered, not wanting to wake his daughter, but having no choice if he wanted to get out of bed. “Jamie? Wake up, I need to use the bathroom.” He felt her stir, his body fighting the instant reaction of having a warm, soft woman pressed against his front, her breasts flattened against his chest, her body very obviously naked against him. She stirred and lifted her head to look up at him. When she realized he was awake, her sleepy eyes blinked and went wide.   
“Mitch?”  
“The same, but I need to get out of bed...now.”  
Jamie understood the urgency and slid out backward from under the covers, standing out of the way as he followed and staggered off to the toilet. When he came back, much relieved, she had scooted back under the blankets to the middle of the bed and Clem was now snuggled up to her back like a possum. Mitch got in and happily gathered them both in his arms. His head ached, but he'd taken a couple of painkillers and some water before returning.   
“How's the head?” Jamie asked. Mitch reached up for the bandage, pressing against the pad underneath to assess the swelling.   
“How did it look when you did this?”  
“Swollen, angry and a small cut, which is why I dressed it. Didn't need stitches, but was bleeding a little,” she explained. Mitch left off poking at his head and let it settle back into the pillows with a sigh. “Did a good job, thank you.”  
Clem woke up later in the morning, glad to find her dad awake and as well as could be expected after being tossed about in a tornado. She left her father and Jamie in bed to go find something for breakfast and get dressed. A knock at the door shortly after announced Jackson and Chloe come to visit to see how he was, Jamie throwing on his old dressing gown before they entered the bedroom. Mitch stayed where he was, his head feeling like a chunk of concrete was being repeatedly dropped on it.   
“Hey,” Jamie greeted them, pushing her bed messy hair off her face.   
“Oops, are we too early?” Jackson asked.  
“No. Not at all. I'll leave you to talk. Excuse me.” Jamie left the room, shutting the door behind her friends. Jackson went over to the side of the bed and sat down, Chloe settling on the other side.   
Jackson grinned down at Mitch. “You look a better color. We thought we'd found a human popsicle last night. How's the bump?”  
“Bloody painful, like a jackhammer pounding away inside. Where was I?” Mitch asked.  
“Abe and I found you under a span of the bridge. You were lucky there was a pile of crap holding up one end of the concrete and metal or you'd be a lot thinner.”  
“I know, I saw it land, expecting it to be the last thing I saw, but somehow it left just enough space for me to breath and pass out. You carried me back here?”  
Jackson grinned. “We went prepared to bring you back dead or alive, so we had a stretcher. Jamie patched you up here after stripping off your wet clothes and getting you into bed.”  
“Thank you, all of you.” Mitch grimaced from the pain in his head, Jamie coming into the bedroom with a glass and some more pills. Chloe got up to make room for her.   
“Can you sit up, Mitch?” Jamie asked, settling beside him.  
Mitch pulled a face, Jackson gripping his hand to help pull him upright to take the pain pills and down most of the water, then lowered him back to the pillows before letting go.   
“Thanks,” Mitch sighed, his brows drawn together in pain. Chloe came over and gripped Jackson's shoulder, urging him to get up.   
“We'll look in later and see how you are,” Chloe told him, nodding to Jamie who smiled her gratitude. Mitch raised his hand, his eyes closed.  
“Bye.” He opened his eyes briefly when Jamie stood up to shut the bedroom door so she could get dressed. He watched her as she padded naked around the room before finding and pulling on a long-sleeved top and pants, sitting on the bed to pull on her jeans, socks, and boots. Picking up a brush she started to drag it through her bed hair, Mitch finally giving in to the pull of sleep and closing his eyes. When she was done taming her locks, he was asleep. Jamie spent a few minutes gazing down at him, then tied her hair back in a ponytail and left him alone.   
Clem sat at the table pushing cereal around a bowl, not really interested in eating.   
“Hey, shouldn't you be off to work?” Jamie asked. Clem looked up and grimaced.   
“I don't want to leave him alone,” she replied, the corners of her mouth turned down.  
“Look, I'll walk with you. I have to let them know at the surgery that Mitch is going to be out of action for a few days, so why don't we keep each other company?”  
“Okay. He's going to be alright, isn't he?”  
“Your father will be fine. He just needs to rest and recover from the bump and a nasty headache.”  
Together they tidied up the campervan and donned their jackets, the weather outside still blowy and damp. Jamie locked the door behind her and they started on the short walk to the market down the road. Clem asked her to come to the stall and explain to her employer what happened, which she did, the woman expressing the hope that the doctor would be well soon. With Clem occupied for the rest of the day, Jamie went to the former Walgreen building and told the staff already on site what had happened, discussing with them how to handle any emergencies that arose. Mitch had pushed hard to encourage former and retired medical and veterinary staff to sign on with his initiative, so that there was a competent team to fill in if he was not available, or incapacitated, for whatever reason for a short time. That done, Jamie left to walk back, several people coming up to speak to her about Mitch, word having rocketed around the market in record time while she spent time inside the building. She assured everyone that Mitch wasn't seriously injured, but needed time to recover, that the doctors and vets were still open for patients despite his absence.

When he awoke the second time he asked if his bag had been recovered, Jamie bringing it over to show him it was all in one piece, but needed to dry out. She extracted his glasses, gave them a wipe and handed them over for him to wear. His paperwork would need to be dried, Jamie spreading it on the table and the bench top to do just that. The samples he'd taken at the circus were put into the fridge and the bag hung up to dry.  
Jamie was just thinking about getting something organized for lunch when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it one of their friends, she opened it with a smile on her face, surprised to see a beautifully coifed and clothed woman standing at the bottom of the steps. Behind her stood a hugely muscled man that dwarfed the woman and would probably rival Abe for sheer physicality.   
“Um...can I help you?” Jamie asked, just a little bit intimidated.  
“Hello, dear. I'm Kelly Brandon, you met me briefly last night when you came looking for Mitch. Is he available?”  
“Er...he is, but he was injured last night...”  
Kelly interrupted her. “I know, dear. That's why I'm here, word reached me this morning about what happened. I just had to see how the darling man was and make sure he was okay. Can I come in?”  
Jamie mutely stood back to allow the woman, who looked nothing like she'd done the night before, to enter the RV, the bodyguard content to stay outside.  
Kelly looked around the interior of the RV while Jamie went down the short hall to the bedroom to alert Mitch to his visitor. She had barely entered the room when Kelly swept in behind her, the scent of an expensive perfume wafting in with her.  
“Mitch, darling how is your poor head?” Not waiting to be invited, Kelly draped herself across the bed, peering intently at the injured man, who stared back at her in a slightly surprised fashion, having only just woken up from a doze, his glasses askew and bed covers only pulled up to his waist, leaving his chest bare. The white bandage spoke for itself and Kelly leaned further forward to gently touch her manicured finger to the dressing, Mitch managing not to flinch back when she did.   
Jamie watched the affecting show with barely concealed contempt. Mitch seemed to be mesmerized by the glamorous woman who, Jamie had to admit, was closer to his age than she was, another reason to be less than happy with the circus woman fawning all over him. Kelly appeared oblivious to the young woman standing just inside the bedroom, her focus all on the man in the bed.   
“I couldn't believe it when I heard you'd been injured by a tornado last night. As soon as I learned what happened I hurried right over to see if there was anything I could do for you, you poor man.”  
Mitch pushed himself more upright while pulling the covers up higher, his eyes never leaving Kelly's, taking in her carefully applied makeup and flamboyant, if tasteful, clothes.   
“You walked here?” Mitch asked, still a little sleep befuddled. Having fended off her advances the night before he was a little taken aback to find her on the side of his bed, in his actual bedroom and treating him like they'd known each other for years, when in fact it had been a few hours.   
“Actually I had the loan of an electric buggy, good shoes are so hard to come by these days, I hate to wear them out,” Kelly explained, shrugging off her coat and laying it on the end of the bed. She looked around and saw Jamie still standing at the end of the bed. “I could really go for a hot coffee, dear. Would you like one too, Mitch darling?”  
Mitch had been so focused on his exotic visitor he'd not even noticed that Jamie was in the room, let alone witness to the performance taking place. He turned to look, but Jamie had spun on her heel and left the room, Mitch only seeing her departing figure before Kelly drew his attention back to her.   
“I'm so glad you have your young friend here to look after you or is that your daughter?” Kelly asked, Mitch flushing as the barb about Jamie's age compared to his, hit home.  
“My daughter is twelve, Kelly. I think I mentioned that last night.”  
Kelly laughed, her eyes drinking him in. “I believe you did mention something about her, Clara isn't it?”  
“Clementine,” Mitch corrected her, his head starting to throb. A movement drew his attention to the bedroom door, Jamie appearing with a tray on which two mugs sat and a glass of water with a couple of pain pills for him to take. She kept her eyes lowered and didn't meet his, setting the tray on the bedside table and handing one across to Kelly to take. The other she left on the tray before turning to leave, deliberately shutting the sliding door behind her. Mitch stared after her for a moment before a cool hand was laid on his arm, Kelly drawing his attention back to her with a light touch. Mitch reached up and started to unwind the bandage from his head, wincing and grimacing as he did so, Kelly watching with genuine sympathy as he removed the dressing underneath to reveal the raised bruise on his forehead.  
“That looks painful,” Kelly murmured, peering into his face, closer than Mitch felt comfortable with. He reached sideways for the tray, putting some space between them, popping the pills and downing the water before replacing the glass with the coffee mug.  
“What are you doing here, Kelly?” he asked, closing his eyes briefly. His visitor pouted, turning away to hide the frustration at his lack of response to her.   
“Can't a friend visit another friend when they've been injured?”  
Mitch chuckled. “So you always visit sick friends dressed to the nines? Who were you hoping to impress?”  
Kelly turned back, sending him a sultry smile after putting her mug down and leaning towards him. “Why you, of course. I told you, I don't get to meet many handsome, intelligent men and you intrigued me. Plus, I did want to see how you were when I heard what had happened.”  
“I appreciate your solicitude, Kelly, but all this?” He indicated her appearance. “It's a bit much for visiting the sick.”  
“I wanted to look my best for you, is that a crime?”  
“No. And you look beautiful, as well you know.”  
Kelly preened at his flattery, but Mitch wasn't done. “But I'm not on the market, Kelly, not when I came to see you last night, and certainly not this morning. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but that's all it can ever be.”  
Kelly gazed back at him, cursing inside, but keeping a calm smile on her face. “I'm sorry you think I'm on a fishing expedition, Mitch dear, I assure you I'm not. I don't break up a happy family.” She sipped her coffee, hiding the fact it was too strong for her taste.   
“Then I apologize if I offended you, I just wanted to make my position clear.”  
Kelly laughed. “I'm not offended, I'm flattered. It's so refreshing to converse with a man who knows the rules of the game. I can have my pick of men for sex, but to find a man with a brain and not afraid to speak his mind is a much more precious treasure.”  
“Truce?” Mitch asked, giving her a crooked smile and holding out his hand. Kelly took it, giving him a megawatt toothy smile, her eyes sparkling. “Truce!”

Jamie sat at the table and stared sightlessly out the window, refusing to demean herself and listen at the door, the occasional burst of laughter making her frown deeply before consciously relaxing her face and wiping the crease from between her brows. It was none of her business who Mitch was friends with, for that matter who he had an affair with. The circus wouldn't be there forever, and Jamie wasn't going anywhere, she would simply be patient and still be there long after the woman was gone. This was exactly why she wouldn't force or accept a more formal commitment to him. Mitch was an attractive man, a genius level intelligence combined with great leadership skills, it was small wonder he wasn't mobbed by women every day. He wasn't, but that was more to do with his tendency to be more focused on what he was doing than on the people around him, oblivious for the most part to the longing looks and speculative glances sent his way. 

Mitch enjoyed Kelly's visit once she stopped trying to flirt with him, the conversation flowing more easily once the sexual tension was dissipated and no longer on the table. By the time Kelly was putting her elaborate coat back on and preparing to leave, he was sincerely sorry to see her go. Having few peers and none with such a colorful life as hers, it was a pleasure to listen to her anecdotes about life in a circus and hear her views about life in general, her cynicism about certain aspects of her worldview surprisingly similar to his own. After finalizing a day to come over and take what samples he wanted, Kelly blew him a kiss and sailed out of the room, leaving behind a smile on his face and a cloud of perfume in her wake. Knowing that he was going to have to mend some fences with Jamie, he got out of bed and got dressed, moving slowly to avoid jerking his head or stressing his bruised body, all a result of his attempt to fly with the unwanted help of nature. 

When he left the bedroom, Jamie was standing in the doorway of the airstream, her arms folded defensively across her chest, watching the departure of Kelly and her massive bodyguard back to the gate, where her transport, the golf buggy, was parked. Mitch walked up behind Jamie and wrapped her in his arms, ignoring the automatic stiffening of her body against his. He nuzzled the side of her head as they both watched the circus owner wave gaily to the campground owner to let her and her companion out of the RV park.   
When they were both finally out of sight, Jamie made to move but Mitch held her firmly within his arms.   
“Do I really need to remind you of your importance in my life?” he asked. Jamie slowly shook her head, not speaking for the lump choking her throat. Mitch tried again.  
“I don't need to justify myself but I will, because I don't want you to misunderstand anything and because I want to be honest with you. I didn't ask her to come here or dress up as she did. She did try to flirt with me, just as she did last night, but I gave her the same answer today as I did last night. I'm not interested in any sort of relationship outside either a professional exchange of information or a friendship with someone of my age group. She now accepts that and won't be trying to flirt with me again.”  
Jamie swallowed the lump and lowered her head. “She is very beautiful.”  
“Sure, but anyone can turn a sow's ear into a silk purse with the right clothes and a shit load of makeup.”  
Jamie gasped and turned in his arms. Mitch moved back so she could shut the door, her expression shocked. “She's a long way from a sow's ear, Mitch, even you have to admit that!”  
He shrugged. “Compared to you, she's the whole pig, not just the ear.” He ran a gentle finger down her face from hairline to jaw, loving the soft peach feel of her skin. Jamie stared back at him, wide-eyed, searching for the truth in his gaze. She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble growing through but loving that she had the right to do that.   
“So....you're feeling better now?” she asked, smiling up at him. He looked into her face, the dimples in his cheeks slowly emerging as he smiled back crookedly.   
“I think I still need to lay down for a bit more...care to join me?”  
“Are you playing hooky, Dr. Morgan?”  
“I think I've earned a day off to recover from my injuries, and if I need my personal nurse on hand in case I have a relapse, then I'm just being cautious. Better safe than sorry, don't you think?”  
“As your nurse, I'd better come and tuck you back into bed, and maybe keep an eye on you....just in case.”  
Mitch grinned broadly and started to drag her towards the bedroom. “Best idea I've heard today.”

A week later, Mitch, Abe, and Jackson rocked up to the circus prepared to take as many samples as Mitch deemed necessary from the hybrids. Mitch and his team of vets had managed to cobble together a selection of tranquilizers for each animal based on its weight, type and probably base animal. The chemistry wasn't exact, so they backed it up with a homeopathic remedy if the animals came out of the pharmaceutical sleep too soon. Whatever, they would only have a brief window in which to take the samples, so both men had been coached by Mitch as to their role to play once the animals were down. Kelly and her team of animal handlers listened while Mitch explained what he planned to do, everyone aware of the potential danger involved, but nobody suggested it was in any way a waste of time. Kelly had already prepped her people that if anybody could solve the riddle of the hybrids it was Mitch Morgan.   
It took the best part of an hour for each animal, from darting to administering the antidote, the three men worked together to gather everything deemed essential from measurements to physical samples. Mitch had told Jackson to not hesitate to remind him if he, Mitch, started to get too focused and forget the time limits, as he was want to do given such a fascinating situation. After three grueling hours bagging, tagging and sampling, it was done, Mitch having an impressive collection of information about each hybrid, possibly the most comprehensive in the country.   
Kelly offered each of them a stiff drink afterward, the three of them taking up her offer, Abe, and Jackson rather in awe of the flamboyant woman and charmed by her considerable personality. Mitch watched them as Kelly did her thing, smiling to himself at their somewhat besotted expressions while she held court. Kelly caught his eye, pouted, then wrapped things up, kissing them all on the cheek before waving them off to return home, several bags worth of stuff to carry back with them. 

Mitch had returned to work a couple of days after his mishap with the tornado, his staff glad to have him back in one piece and his patients the same. Now with the valuable samples in his possession, he turned his mind to compiling a complete profile on the hybrids, using the considerable wealth of scientific equipment his scavengers had collected in their search for all things medical. Mitch had a very well set up, incredibly expensive array of sophisticated diagnostic equipment to use in one of the upstairs rooms, a generator on standby to power them when the electricity was mucking about. Here he sorted and cataloged the samples and subjected them to a number of tests, pulling a couple of assistants away from their usual tasks in the clinic downstairs to help him. Developing x-ray film was still unavailable, but many of the chemicals required for most of the equipment he did have was readily available from the places the stuff was taken from. His team of scrounge-to-order experts were well aware that there was little point in taking a photocopier and not taking the paper or toner with it, to use an example. That piece of hardware had been given to the small print copy shop now opened down the street for printing notices, posters and a broadsheet newsletter for the community, to keep everyone up to date with upcoming events and other newsworthy items.   
Mitch spent every spare moment testing, noting, cataloging and discovering all he could from the organic samples he had to work with. When, after a month or more, he finally finished, he then had to compile a report of the pertinent details to be shared with those interested to know. To that end, he sent out notice of a meeting he was calling to give a lecture on his findings. It was easier to revert back to being a lecturer than try to explain it all one person at a time. To his surprise, his original estimate of the number likely to be interested had to be reassessed and a new venue found. It seemed his fame had spread and news of the lecture extended to beyond the simple confines of the Westview community. On the night of the talk, his audience swelled to standing room only in the largest room available that didn't require him to use a sound system to broadcast his words. 

Mitch had made it clear that the talk was not suitable for anyone under the age of fifteen, so Clem had to stay behind, her opinion of her father's decision ringing in his ears long after he'd left the RV to walk with Jamie to the venue. They were flanked by their friends, Jackson and Abe, Chloe and Dariela, the six of them now a close-knit group with shared experiences and goals to bind them together. When they reached the building where the talk was to take place, Abe and Jackson had to act as bodyguards for Mitch, clearing a path through the crowd of people milling around outside, some still waiting to get in, others just coming along to gawk. Once inside they negotiated the hallways to the rear of the conference room, then went through the side door to the stage, still having to push a way through the throng who waited inside. Mitch went up the few steps to the stage and walked to the podium. The noise from the audience died down when he held his hands up to ask for quiet. When the room was silent, he stepped in front of the podium to address them.   
“Thank you all for coming to this talk. I'll admit I wasn't expecting it to be this popular, but I'm glad you are here to learn what I have about a new threat to not only our community, but to the world. I will be answering questions afterward, so I'd ask you to hear me out before you start to heckle.” A ripple of laughter ran around the room and he waited for it to quieten down again. “Many of my findings will be, for the large part, incomprehensible to you. I don't mean that to sound arrogant, it's just the fact of the matter. I'll try not to linger on the minutiae of the results and give you a much broader overview of what I found from sampling the three hybrids captured and displayed at the Circus, when it was here. If you missed seeing them, I'll be putting up images on the wall behind me to illustrate some of what I'll be talking about. If you are wondering why I'm giving this talk at all, and I can see that question on some of your faces, it is because I think these three creatures are only the tiniest tip of an iceberg that is, potentially, the biggest threat the world has ever seen and could mean the end of current animal life on our planet, certainly on this continent.” He turned away, voices breaking out behind him as he returned to the podium and the notes he had there. He let the audience wear out their shock and surprise before he once more raised his hand to ask for quiet. Behind him, on the back wall, a series of images were being projected, drawings of the hybrid beasts they had come to know since that night so long ago at the campground on the edge of Yellowstone Park.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the new age of the Hybrid....”

He kept the lecture short, there being no point in dragging out all the scientific claptrap for this particular audience, and focused on the impact the new creatures would eventually have on the environment, the animal life and of course, the people. He stressed that the hybrids were not a product of nature, but a result of someone messing about with nature, that there were quite possibly other variations yet to be seen, and it was just a matter of time before everywhere became aware of them, probably just prior to being overrun. Before the closing words of his talk had been spoken the place was in an uproar, people talking amongst themselves, others shouting questions at him, the wording lost in the hubbub of the room.   
Mitch waited a little bit before raising his hands and shouting for quiet. It took a bit to calm the room but eventually, he was able to bring some order and hear the questions being lobbed at him.  
“How do we protect ourselves against them?” a woman asked.  
“That's exactly why I did this, to bring the information out so it becomes a topic to talk about. We have already survived one attempt by nature to take precedence over the human race. We coped with that and we're coming back, but this latest wave of animals have not been produced by nature, and probably have a completely different agenda, but maybe not far off from before. There is a number of ways to protect ourselves from these creatures and this will be addressed by your community leaders. So far there has been no evidence that they have reached the west coast yet. Information is our biggest asset when dealing with anything that threatens our homes, our children, and our lives. Now that you are aware of what is out there, we need to find out more, learn more, come up with ways to protect what we have and prepare for the time when they will be here.”  
“Why not just shoot the fuckers?” One man shouted. Others muttered agreement with that idea.   
“Sure. Go ahead. How many bullets do you have? The Rhino beast has a hide that bullets will bounce off for the most part. Supplies of munitions are non-existent, we'd have to try and get some from the military, and I'm damn sure they will want to hold on to every bullet they can. Attrition will help, but it's not a long-term solution.”  
“We could build a fort or something...” a woman called out her solution.  
Mitch nodded. “That's something I'm sure the leaders will be thinking about implementing.”  
He held up his hands to forestall any further questions. “Friends, I wanted this talk to get you thinking, to get you planning for what I think is inevitable. This is your community, your lives and you need to be proactive in safeguarding them. There will be meetings posted in short order, I suggest you attend them and start coming up with ways to protect what you have for both the immediate short term and also for the future long-term.”  
While the room erupted into a cacophony of voices, Mitch gathered up his notes and left the podium, his job, for the time being, done. He had well and truly lit a fire under the community of Westview and he sincerely hoped they were able to work together to create something to protect themselves with.   
For him, the idyllic life of the past months was rapidly coming to an end. His study of the Hybrids had raised a number of issues that he now felt needed more action on his part and on the part of the wider world beyond simply Westview. His original plans for a future for him and Clem, and now Jamie, were all under threat from the potential hybrid invasion. Whoever was creating and releasing these creatures onto the planet had only one vision for the human race – annihilation. It was unlikely that he was the only scientist to reach that conclusion, but here in isolation his information and theories were worthless. If any solution was to be found to limit or control these new animals, it would have to come out of a collaborative effort with many other minds to find an answer, to find a way to prevent the creatures from overrunning the world and wiping out not just the people, but all animal life on Earth as they knew it. 

“Well, Mitch, you sure know how to start a riot!”  
They were all back at the campground, the owner warned that there could be a number of people wanting to speak to Mitch after the lecture, but that he was unavailable until tomorrow and to keep the gate locked. The six friends had retired to Jackson and Abe's RV to talk in the aftermath.   
“A riot was not my intention, but if it gets them thinking and motivated to do something, then maybe they'll have a chance to survive what's to come.”  
“You think it's going to be that bad?” Dariella asked. “Won't the armed forces...?”  
“And how well did the armed forces deal with ordinary animals when push came to shove?” Mitch retorted. “They declared martial law in the central districts of the larger cities to protect what? The politicians? The money? The lawyers?” Mitch waved his hand dismissively. “I don't doubt that the military has better resources than we do, which is why I'll be going to them next.”   
“What?” Jackson exclaimed, his eyes wide. “Why?”  
“Because I can't do anything on my own. I've hit a brick wall. This is going to be bigger than what we've already survived, bigger than anything the planet has had to face so far, in as much threats to the ecosystem and the balance of nature.”  
“A bit melodramatic, don't you think?” Jackson retorted acidly. Mitch stared at him for a moment.  
“These creatures that have been let loose on the world were not born to it, they are a mishmash of different species cobbled together fully formed and, from what I've seen so far, really pissed off. They have the ability to breed, continuing the pattern of mutation and God know's what else. They are largely omnivores, so they are eating anything they come across in both flora and fauna. They are a threat to every possible form of habitat on dry land, and I wouldn't put it past whoever is doing this to have seeded the oceans and lakes with something as well. So, once these hybrids chew their way through the wildlife, what will they come after next? So we barricade ourselves behind walls, how does that protect the cattle, sheep, horses, goats and other domestic animals we rely on for meat. Okay, you discount the meat and become vegetarians, how are you going to protect the crops that have to be grown to provide enough food for the communities behind the walls? With enough planning some will be able to survive on hydroponically grown food, great, now jump forward several decades. The world is a wasteland with no flora, no fauna, it becomes a desert and with no trees to provide oxygen we all die. Does it have to get that bad before anyone acknowledges there's a problem?”  
Chloes lilting French accent dropped into the silence. “No flowers mean no bees, no insects mean no birds, the world dies anyway, or so we've always been told.”  
“Exactly. We have a very small window of opportunity before these hybrids become too numerous for us to reverse the damage done. If we could find a way to neutralize them, maybe even sterilize them or draw them to one place where they can be slaughtered, we might have a fighting chance. But if we don't, if we do nothing and let them proliferate, then we might have a couple of decades clinging to this rock, but after that....game over.”  
Mitch stared around the small circle of friends, wondering even to himself how things had gone from cautiously optimistic to downright doomsday disaster.  
Abe spoke up this time. “How do we get you and your information to the right people?”  
“We start with the people at the top. We go to the center of government in this region and plead our case, in the hope they get in touch with the next on the ladder and so on until this gets before those that make the decisions.” Mitch looked around at his friends again. “Unless someone has a better idea?”  
Everyone looked at each other, seeing the same answer in all their eyes. “You'll need help,” Abe intoned. “Rafiki and I can bear witness to what you've seen and done. And we can take care of Jamie and Clementine if the need arises.”  
Mitch met the gaze of the four people in front of him, all of them nodding their agreement. He looked at Jamie who nodded as well.  
“You need to get this information to those that can use it, Mitch. Nothing is more important than that. If it means we have to lose you to science for a while, I'm okay with that, and I'm sure Clem will be as well. This is too important to all of us.”  
He stared at her, seeing and appreciating her sincerity. “Then we're agreed. We go to the city and find someone who'll listen.”  
A chorus of voices echoed his words. “Agreed!!”

The preparation to leave took a week to finalize, Mitch presenting his argument to the community leaders over several sessions until everyone was agreed his proposal was the right move to make. They also agreed that while he was gone they would start to make preparations to create a safe haven for the people in Westview as well as get some initiatives underway, like building a hydroponics farm within the new boundary of the future community. Even if everything were to go smoothly for Mitch and his team once they passed on their information, it would take months, possibly over a year before anything positive would come of it. In the meantime, the threat from the hybrids was real and would be on their doorsteps before much longer, needing action now.   
The doctor's and veterinary clinics were running well without him, the wider community well served by the people running it, now able to cope with almost any emergency thrown their way. They even had recently recruited a former dental nurse who was learning all she could to help deal with any dental crisis that arose. His talks with the community leaders had left the door open for him to return if he wanted too, the men and women understanding the seriousness of the situation and wishing him every good fortune in his endeavors. If he was unsuccessful and needed to come back, the door was always open for him and his friends and family.

With the vehicles ready to go, the two RV's rolled out of the San Francisco RV Park for the last time. The owner and his family came out to see them off, several of the Westview community doing the same as they slowly passed the former Walgreen Pharmacy and Market area until they were lost to distance. They would be heading into the heart of San Francisco city, to Parnassus Heights in the Cole Valley, site of the spawling UCSF campus containing the Health Sciences and Medical Center on one side, Hospital on the other. Without knowing the disposition of the city or its scientific community, one place was as good as another, as a starting point. It seemed most likely that the UCSF would be in the know of who to contact and where to find whoever it was they needed to contact. So they jumped on the freeway at Freemont and follow that to route one which would take them up to the Golden Gate Park before hanging a right at Lincoln, turning right at seventh then right again onto Judah which ran into Parnassus. Seemed straightforward with little room to get lost, according to anyone who was consulted as to the best route to the campus. They just hadn't factored in the damage from the weather, checkpoints and a collapsed building.  
Almost as soon as they reached the outer suburbs around Lakeside, near the SF State University they ran into their first blockade with armed guards. When they'd first arrived in the area there hadn't been many obstacles other than potholes and cracked road caused by weather and lack of maintenance, now there was no way to travel on the main road without being stopped. Mitch pulled up to the line indicated by the soldier and lowered his side window.   
“Is there a problem?” he asked, the soldier giving him a hard look, then giving the RV a quick glance before waving over more soldiers, one of them holding an Alsatian on a leash, the dog instantly starting to strain and jump up at the side of the RV.  
“How many people are in your vehicle, Sir?”  
“Three. Myself, my daughter and my wife.”  
“Any animals?”  
“Nope.”  
“Are you carrying any drugs or alcohol, Sir?”  
“I'm a doctor, so yes, I do have prescription drugs onboard, as well as other medical pharmaceuticals. What alcohol I have is used for medical purposes only.”  
“Do you carry any weapons, Sir?”  
“I do. I have them locked in a weapon safe in the back of the RV.”  
“Can you explain why you have a cow catcher on the front of your vehicle, Sir?”  
Mitch chuckled. “We ran into some trouble on our trip here. Road gangs were holding up vehicles north of Salt Lake City and we weren't prepared to pay their toll, so we broke through their barricade with modified vehicles. This was one of them.”  
The soldier managed to relax his stern demeanor and let a look of approval quirk his lips before he schooled his features back to an expressionless mask.   
“Please open the door to your vehicle so the dog can perform a search, Sir.”  
“As you wish.” Mitch got out of the driver's seat and walked to the door, indicating for Jamie and Clem to stay where they were. He opened the outer door and the dog sprang in, off the lead, its head down as it searched for whatever it was trained to find. Mitch went back to the front cab and stood beside Jamie, who slipped her hand into his, the dog-handler standing in the doorway while his animal worked. At length the animal, after pausing briefly to sniff at the fridge with its contents of hybrid samples, completed its search front and back and returned to the handler and sat down, pink tongue lolling. The handler clipped the leash back onto the dog's collar and they left. He was instantly replaced by the soldier Mitch had been talking to.  
“Please show me where your weapon's cache is kept, Sir.”  
Mitch led the man to the bedroom and opened the weapon's safe. The soldier stared around the room then into the safe, noting the caliber of the guns and amount of ammunition.   
“Where exactly are you heading for, Sir?”  
“UCSF Medical Center, Cole Valley.”  
“Why there, Sir?”  
“To offer my services,” Mitch told him. “As a doctor.” He and the others had discussed in full what their backstory would be. “Plus my wife is a medical receptionist. We heard they were looking for staff.”  
The soldier narrowed his eyes as he peered at the small family, everyone looking back at him with blank expressions.  
“I should warn you, Sir, that this is only the first of several checkpoints around the city center.”  
Mitch nodded. “We are expecting that.”  
“Good. I'll write you a pass from this checkpoint. Don't lose it. If you cannot produce a pass from this first checkpoint there will be no chance you will progress past the next further on, do you understand?”  
“Completely.”  
After another quick glance around the interior, the soldier left and shut the door behind him. Mitch let out a slow breath and returned to the driver's seat.  
“What now?” Clem asked, staring wide-eyed at the soldiers, dogs, and guns arrayed around them.   
“We wait for the paperwork and hope they don't come up with any reason to send us back or detain us.”  
“I wonder how Jackson and the others are getting on?” Jamie queried, Mitch giving a grimace.  
“We'll find out soon enough.” After a nerve-wracking half an hour the soldier returned and handed over a folded piece of paper.   
“This is your pass, it will get you through to the next checkpoint. Good luck.”  
Mitch started the motor and was waved through the checkpoint barrier, rolling slowly past the vehicles parked beyond, hidden from anyone on the other side.  
Jamie stared at the heavily armored vehicles. “They look like they're expecting trouble.”  
“Maybe they know something we don't,” Mitch shot back. He pulled the campervan over to the side of the road further on to wait for Jackson and crew. Twenty minutes later the vehicle trundled towards them, lights flashing. Mitch pulled back onto the road and they proceeded in file along nineteenth avenue heading north. The road was like a firebreak, an almost continuous solid wall of buildings creating a high wall either side, the crossroads barricaded off, preventing anyone going across town, east or west, forcing anyone traveling north or south to stay on the nineteenth to the next checkpoint.   
They arrived at number two within minutes and pulled up to a stop, soldiers even more heavily armed than the first checkpoint, standing ready to open fire if the intruders so much as blinked. Mitch held his arm out the window with the pass, the document taken by the soldier that came up to his window.   
“I need you to step down from the cab and answer some questions, Sir.”  
Mitch did as requested, keeping his hands in plain view. In the RV behind theirs, Abe was doing exactly the same, his hands raised to shoulder height to indicate his compliance. Both men were asked the same series of questions as before, the soldiers checking the vehicle underneath with mirrors, and sending another dog through to search for what, they weren't informed. When Mitch answered the questions about their destination, the soldier went and conferred with another of his platoon, before returning.   
“I will send a soldier with you to direct your way to the campus. Security is on high alert, so do not lose the pass I will give you, do you understand?”  
“I understand,” Mitch repeated, lowering his hands. The man stomped away, coming back in a few minutes with another document, now stapled to the first one, both stamped and signed.   
“Present these at the next checkpoint. Failure to do so will result in your instant arrest and incarceration. Do you understand?”  
“I understand.” Mitch took the document and folded it in half before tucking it inside his jacket.   
“Return to your vehicle and prepare to carry on, Sir.”  
The whole process was repeated to Abe, like an echo, both men getting back onboard their RV's and preparing to pass through the barricade when the soldier waved them through. Clem had climbed out of the passenger seat to make room for the soldier who climbed aboard, prepared to guide them to their goal. He didn't glance at either Jamie or Clem, just kept his rifle across his chest and spoke only when they reached the end of nineteenth avenue, indicating for Mitch to take the next right into Judah Street, the first time they'd found an unblocked road heading east.   
“You don't use Lincoln?” Mitch asked. The soldier glanced over at him.   
“Too close to open ground.” He didn't say anything else, his explanation cryptic at best.   
Mitch only had time to glance further ahead, seeing what looked like a huge barricade made up of vehicles and demolished buildings. Turning into Judah Street they found the cross street on the north side were closed off, while those on the south side were still open. There hadn't been signs of any other vehicles on the road and no pedestrian traffic along the footpaths.   
“Does anyone live in this part of town?” Mitch asked, checking his side mirrors to see Abe following behind.   
“Not anymore,” the soldier muttered. “Just keep on the straight, this leads directly to the university.”  
The road was climbing between the familiar tightly packed buildings on either side, metal tram lines and overhead wires reminding them if they needed to be, of where they were. The closer they got to the campus, the taller and more elaborate the dwellings bracketing the road.  
“Turn right here.”  
Mitch followed the man's directions, the road narrowing with abandoned cars lining either side.   
“Take the next left.”  
They followed the side road until it narrowed further to one lane, climbing steeply. On the left side, they started to get views over the city, stretching to the sea in the distance. Within seconds they were swallowed up by the campus buildings towering all around them until they reached the end, a sign telling them it was pedestrian access only from that point. Here they met their first campus manned checkpoint, the soldier getting out to approached the uniformed men guarding the gate.  
Mitch, along with Jamie and Clem got out of the Audra Two, waiting for Jackson and the others to catch up. Mitch had his satchel which contained all his paperwork, plus qualifications while everyone else came empty-handed for the time being.   
When asked they presented their passes, where checked for weapons, sniffed again by the ever-present dog, and asked their business. Mitch stuck to the story about offering his services, which was mostly true, and they were told to wait until a guide arrived to take them through to administration. The soldier was staying with them until he was given the all clear by someone higher up, his gun still held at the ready, being deliberately intimidating.   
They had to wait a further half an hour at the university checkpoint until a guide arrived to take them further into the campus, the buildings like a fortified stockade, all gaps between the buildings blocked and reinforced, just like the roads had been. Overhead were thick cables strung from roofline to roofline, heavy nets suspended between them.   
“Problem with birds?” Jackson asked, pointing to the sky. The guide looked up with a worried expression.   
“No. No problem. Just a precaution.”  
Jackson exchanged a wry look with Mitch over that piece of fiction. They were all led into one of the buildings, all signage removed so they had no idea where they were or what the building was for. Mitch raised an eyebrow but refrained from comment, their guide not likely to answer with the truth.  
“Please wait here,” the guide instructed them, pointing to seats in a waiting room, again all signage removed to identify what it had been originally used for. The seated themselves around the room, Abe going over to the window to peer out. “Not many people moving about.”  
Dariela moved up to stand beside him, linking her arm through his. “Maybe it's between classes?”  
They didn't have long to wait, the guide plus two other people were approaching. Mitch stood up to address them.   
“Hi, I'm Mitch Morgan and this is my team...”  
“Your team? Are you a surgeon?” the woman looked so hopeful Mitch was almost sorry to disappoint her.  
“No. I'm a General Practioner and Veterinary Pathologist.”  
All three now looked confused. “We were told you had come to offer your services?” the man queried.   
“I have...we have. We need to get in touch with your people dealing with the hybrid problem.”  
The guide looked thoroughly confused, while the man and woman exchanged a loaded glance. The woman stepped forward. “Thank you for bringing them to us, Frank. We'll take it from here.”  
Frank gave her a grateful smile and hurried away, the woman waiting until he was out of sight before speaking again. “My name is Laura Thomas, I am the head administrator of this facility.” She turned to introduce her partner. “This is our head of medical services, Lawrence Burkis.” The man stepped forward and shook Mitch's hand, nodding to everyone else.   
Laura indicated for them to follow her. “We'll find an office and you can tell me exactly what it is you have, Mr. Morgan.”  
“Doctor Morgan.”  
Laura inclined her head to acknowledge his title. They all trooped down hallway after hallway, soon becoming lost in the labyrinth until Laura flung open a door to a conference room. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I need to get a few more people, who will be interested in what you have to say.” She waited for everyone to file in, then whisked herself away, the door swinging shut behind her. Mitch found a seat, the others availing themselves of the comfortable chairs down one side, while Lawrence took a seat opposite. For a moment no one said anything, then Lawrence cleared his throat, drawing all eyes onto him.  
“So, where do all you folks come from?”  
“Prior to San Francisco?” Mitch asked, Lawrence nodding.  
“Well, I'm originally from Los Angeles, then went to Boston where Clementine was.” Mitch looked over at his daughter and smiled. “We hooked up with Jamie at Yellowstone, then traveled on to here, where we were staying at Westview until now.”  
Lawrence leant forward eagerly. “Then you've seen quite a bit of the states in your travels?” Mitch nodded. Lawrence spoke again. “What is it like out there? We get incredible stories from people who travel beyond the bridge or commute to the valley, but they just say people are doing their best to get back to something approaching normal. Is that true?”  
“It's a long way from normal,” Mitch retorted, Jackson giving a snort of agreement while Abe smiled grimly. “There's a lot less traffic, but there are road gangs holding up traveler for ransom in places, no repairs to roads, dangers from the weather and rock falls on the highways, danger from petty tyrants owning stretches of the interstates. Then to add to the usual perils we now have to contend with an invasion of hybrids.”  
“Not just out there,” Lawrence muttered.   
The door opened to the conference room and a number of people entered, some of them in military uniforms, their eyes hard as they stared at the diverse collection of people ranged down one side of the table. Laura was among them and was the first to speak.   
“We would like to clarify some things before this meeting starts in earnest. If you would indulge us, Dr. Morgan, why did you choose to come here?”  
Mitch glanced briefly at his group of friends and family. “Because we deduced that you, meaning this institution, would be most likely to have the necessary scientific resources that are needed to research a way to unravel the problem that is the hybrid threat to this planet. Was I wrong?”  
Laura glanced at the top ranking military man, a general according to the ribbons on his chest. His expression was unreadable. She turned back to face Mitch.  
“And what makes you think there is a problem with the hybrids?”  
Mitch raised an eyebrow. “The fact they exist at all is a problem, but if they are allowed to proliferate without check then the environment we currently live in will cease to exist in less than ten years, which means we, humans, will cease to exist as well. Is that problem enough?”  
The newcomers didn't bat an eyelid, only Laura looking over at the military leader confirming that what Mitch had laid out was not news to anyone around the table. The general gave a small nod and Laura subsided, giving the rest of the meeting over to him.  
“You are not the first to come to this or a similar conclusion, Dr. Morgan. What makes you think we would need your expertise or information to solve this?”  
Mitch sat back in his chair and smiled. “I think you need all the help you can lay your hands on. I have had my hands on and taken samples of four hybrids, both living and dead and have substantial in-depth biological information to pass on, as well as first-hand accounts and observations plus geographical locations of current populations to add to the mix. My team has seen them in action, come up against them and survived. If you think this is nothing you haven't seen before, then we'll be on our way.”  
Mitch met the hard gaze of the general without a flicker, a small smile playing around his lips. The general broke the staring contest first, staring down at his chest for a moment before reaching up to take his hat off and lay it on the table.   
“I think that you, and your team, Dr. Morgan, are exactly what we need if you are sincerely interested in helping to find a solution to the hybrid problem. Welcome aboard.”


	10. Saving The Future

Jackson Oz, leading his own team of capture experts, raced his friend, Abraham Kenyatta to the waterfront to check out the latest report of strange creatures causing problems. In the weeks since they'd followed Mitch Morgan to the UCSF and become part of the initiative to capture and study as many of the hybrid varieties let loose on the American continent as possible, they had found where they could exploit their strengths, one being displayed today.   
“Oz one to Oz two, come in Abe?”  
The RT crackled for a moment then Abe's jovial voice boomed over the airwaves. “Oz two receiving you loud and clear, over?”  
“Great. We'll need the snares and containers when we reach the wharf. Over.”  
“All ready to use, Rafiki. Over and out.”  
Jackson glanced over at his two in charge, the soldier assigned to security looking more grim-faced than usual.   
“This'll be a cake walk for you, Joe. Lighten up.”  
“I hate snakes.”  
“Well, technically these aren't snakes, they're more like eels....very big, very long eels that glow in the dark, sort of.”  
“Eels, snakes, same thing.”  
Jackson sighed inwardly. As much as he loved the chase and the hunt for hybrids, the company was not always of the best. Joe was the third soldier so far to be partnered with Jackson, and the most taciturn to date. The two previous occupiers of the position had been injured on the job. One trampled, the other sprayed with venom. Both had survived...just, and another soldier assigned to replace them. Joe was a big guy that looked like he ate hybrids for breakfast, but he had a weakness, a fear of anything remotely resembling a snake, which was a problem as glowing eels were on the menu for capture. A fisherman had reported strange lights in the water when he went night fishing, the creatures circling his boat and attacking it, the motor sufficient to outrun the beasts and get the man, and his catch back to the marina and safety.   
Now Jackson and Abe were going to attempt to capture one or more alive to take back to Hybrid Headquarters for study. The sun was setting behind a bank of dark clouds as they pulled into the carpark, the lights on their trucks sweeping the empty area before coming to a halt. Abe reached out of his driver's window and turned the spotlight to find the fisherman or his boat that would be taking them out to make the capture. With the engines turned off they could hear the clink of cables against metal masts as the boats still moored in the marina rolled and bobbed on the waves. A voice called out and there was the fisherman, accompanied by another, walking casually towards the trucks.  
Jackson and Joe got out of their truck, while Abe and his security guard got out of theirs.   
“Jackson Oz?”   
“The same.”  
“Bernie Wilson, I radioed about the eels.”  
“And that is why we're here. Ready to take us out?”  
“You really want a live one?” asked the other fisherman.   
“Yeah. The dead one was good, but live is better,” Jackson explained.  
“Then let's get on board. Tide waits for no one.” Bernie headed off, his friend at his side.  
Jackson turned back to the car.“Let's get the gear.”

The sea was relatively calm, the fishing boat cutting through the swell with hardly a splash. Bernie was at the wheel, steering them to the grounds he'd first seen the glowing creatures. He and other fishermen had caught several in nets, but none had lived long mostly because of their aggressive behavior even once out of the water needing them to be clubbed by their captors. Now it was Jackson job to catch a live one to add to their collection. 

So far, Mitch and his collection of hybrid specialists had picked apart the information they had and established the base animals the creatures used to build upon. The Rhinobison, as it had been renamed, was literally a mishmash of the two creatures, giving them the hide and thickened armor of the rhino combined with the shape, hair, and fleetness of the American Bison, the horns of one moved to the jaw of the other. It made for a heavily armored, very fast, huge animal with formidable weapons and a hide that bullets and darts bounced off. Mitch now realized the one he'd seen in the circus must have been a juvenile animal, not yet fully grown. Despite both animals have less than stellar eyesight, that had been tweaked and the new hybrid had good enough vision and speed to pose a serious threat, being the tank equivalent of the animal world.   
The lizard hybrid had proved more complex, the creature a splice of the Sonoran desert dwelling Gila Monster and the jungle-dwelling Sloth, with enhancements on both sides of the DNA and finally answering the question of how a lizard grew hair. Increased size, venom toxicity, agility, and coloration were accounted for plus improved senses in sight and smell detection. In each case, the base animals had been improved and enhanced, almost weaponized to provide the maximum protection and attack capabilities. It was frightening, from a scientific point of view, that someone had developed the techniques to play with nature in this way, going against everything that the scientific community held as ethical and moral. Still, understanding how the creatures were made would ultimately lead to a way to bring the creatures down, would uncover a weakness that could be exploited, something they could target specifically to them alone and not affect the wider animal population, including those they were a bastardization of. They still had to find a commonality and to do that they needed live specimens of each hybrid. The circus had already moved on and Mitch didn't hold out hopes of using those, so they had to find their own. They knew where to find them from the information supplied by Kelly Brandon, the circus owner, and they knew also from their travels where to come across the Razorbacks, so expeditions were being formed to go and capture live specimens of those as well. For now, they would start on their own front porch and capture a luminescent eel that had been sighted within the Bay and causing issues for the ecosystem of the entire area. It was assumed, from the few dead specimens, that it was a combination Hagfish and possibly a sea Krate with an injection of bio-luminosity for what reason, they had yet to find out. A live creature would answer many of the questions still unanswered. 

The boat had anchored and they had thrown chum into the water to lure the eels, Bernie assuring the men from the university that it had worked to attract the eels before. Jackson and Abe, with their attendant helpers, leaned over opposite sides of the boat, peering into the water for any sign of their quarry. Abe was the first to shout, eerily glowing bodies swimming up from the depths to investigate the food source as predicted. One swam close enough to the surface for Abe to get a snare around its body, the creature instantly starting to thrash and wriggled to get free, taking all of Abe's considerable strength to keep a hold of the rope.   
“Need a little help here, Rafiki!”  
It took all four of them to pull the beast onboard, the eel never stopping it's bid for freedom, not even calming when placed inside a plastic covered bin with water inside to keep it alive. They didn't bother to try and remove the rope, just dumped it in, rope and all. With the lid secured they surveyed each other, all four of them liberally soaked with sea water and slime, all of the men breathing heavily from the fight with the six-foot-long hybrid. Abe started to shake his hand, a tingling sensation starting to make itself felt.  
“Quick! Wash off the slime!!” he instantly plunged his hands into another bin of saltwater, scrubbing at his hands and arms and any bit of skin exposed to the hybrid defense mechanism. The captain hauled up more sea water for the others to douse themselves and scrub off the slime covering them. The longer it was on the skin, the worse the reaction until the men were almost scratching at themselves to find any bits they missed, no matter how tiny. At last, they were clean, although completely soaked now, the hybrid in the bin never stopping its thrashing as it sought some way to escape. Jackson stared at his capture team and shuddered as if still feeling the burning itch eating into his skin. “Mitch will just have to make do with one of those things. If he wants more, we'll have to bring hazmat suits next time.”

Mitch was in the process of dispatching another team to find the bird hybrid, which they had established was a strange combination of vulture and hummingbird, the reason for the combination not clear until they had a live specimen to study. Reports were coming in of sightings south of the border, the birds apparently having the ability to dive and burrow underground, which in itself was not entirely unheard of in the bird world, Puffins, Penguins and Kiwi's dug or used burrows for their nests on mainland roosts, for example. Why these birds felt the need to actually dive into the ground was an anomaly but could be related to what they were crossed with. A live hybrid would again answer a lot of the outstanding questions they had about behavior and purpose. Because of the potential size of the flying hybrid, a sizable team was going to effect a capture of one or more. They would also be going with a military escort to avoid trouble on the road. As the team filed out of his office, Mitch stared after them, almost wishing he was going with them.   
“Penny for them?” a female voice asked. He looked up to see Jamie leaning against the door jamb.  
“Hey. Special occasion?”  
She shook her head. “Just lunch. Heard back from Jackson, he and Abe caught your eel.”  
“Only the one?”  
“He said they'd need to wear specialist suits next time. Something about the slime,” Jamie explained. Mitch nodded.   
“I wondered about that. Hagfish are known for producing an excess of slime which, while completely disgusting, is not normally dangerous, but with the way each of these species has been weaponized, toxic slime is par for the course.”  
“So....lunch?” Jamie repeated, despite being nauseated by the talk about slime.   
Mitch glanced at his watch. “Why not? I have some time before the next briefing.

His office, such as it was, was positioned in the far corner of a huge hanger given over to the exclusive study of the hybrid creatures. The building was part zoo, part scientific laboratory, part administrative offices. As he and Jamie walked towards the commissary, they passed the sturdily built cages and enclosures housing the hybrids caught to date. It had been weeks since he'd proved to the military and scientists alike that he truly did have the most comprehensive information about the hybrids at that time, with the knowledge and background plus qualifications to be the lead scientist on the project. It was a lofty title that he shrugged off, for the most part, preferring to run a less structured hierarchy than the military would have liked, but the production of results kept the top brass happy, so few complained about his work style.   
So far, they had acquired two of the rhinobison hybrid, three of the razorback wolf hybrid, only one of the hairy lizard hybrid, but none of the bird or aquatic hybrids as yet. Mitch hoped that Jackson and Abe would be successful with their eel hunt and come up with a live specimen for his team to play with.   
“Earth to Mitch?” Jamie's voice broke into his thought and he looked up, surprised to find himself at the commissary in front of the hot food buffet, the server looking at him expectantly.  
“Sorry, miles away.” He grabbed a tray and plate, indicating for some of the Chinese noodles, roast vegetables, and gravy. Red meat was a rarity, white meat not much better. Seafood chowder was the closest they got to meat, having their own fishing boat to supply the staff with whatever they could net, supplies trucked to the commissary on a weekly basis. Sometimes they didn't question what the cooks had managed to cobble together from the resources available, just glad to have a regular meal, usually hot and nourishing. If finding food for the humans was a challenge, figuring out what the hybrids ate was just as much of a challenge. The herbivore was content with whatever forage the keepers could find, from plain grass to bamboo or willow. The Razorbacks were pure carnivores and would only look at fresh meat, accepting any small to medium sized mammal, alive or dead for their diet. The lizard hybrid took longer to figure out, fruit proving somewhat successful, along with chicken eggs, but the usual diet of insects were too small for the animal, so they substituted rats and mice, along with the occasional dead chicken which was only consumed when it started to decay, proving the hybrid wasn't afraid to scavenge for its food. If and when they got their hands on one of the vulture hybrids it would be a similar dilemma to be solved.   
“Mitch?” Jamie sounded exasperated, as she was entitled to, given his level of preoccupation with all things hybrid, when he should have been paying attention to her.   
“Kick me what I drift off again,” he told her, giving her a lopsided, apologetic smile.   
“That's okay. You have a ton of stuff to think about. I'm just jealous.”  
He paused the loaded fork he was about to stuff in his mouth. “Jealous?”  
Jamie looked up at him and sighed. “Yeah, jealous that you have something so engrossing to be involved in.”  
“I thought you'd started writing your book?”  
“I did, I have...” She played with her food, frowning down at her plate.   
“Writer's block?” he asked, putting his fork down.   
“Not exactly. I just haven't really found a hook to hang the narrative on. Do I make it an adventure, a romance, a factual retelling, biography, science fiction...it's driving me mad.” She continued to push her food around. “I know that's not exactly groundbreaking, but you did ask.”  
“What do you like to read?” he asked, forking up a mouthful and chewing.  
Jamie looked up at him, meeting his eyes before ducking her head again. “You'll think I'm silly...”  
“Nope. This is your book, Jamie, you can write what you want.”  
“I guess. I thought I'd write something that sort of covers a few bases...a romantic adventure with science fiction thrown in.”  
“Sounds good,” Mitch mumbled around his food. “Pretty much sums up our lives for the past year or so.”  
Jamie leaned forward. “That's what I thought. It won't exactly be high literature, but I hope it will be entertaining.”  
Mitch wagged his empty fork at her. “We have enough dry science to read right now to last a lifetime. Write something that makes the reader want more, keep turning the page to see what happens next, that sort of thing.”  
Jamie stared at him intently. “What do you like to read?”  
He shrugged, winding noodles around his fork. “Medical journals and National Geographic.”  
“Hmmm. I don't think you're going to be my target audience.”  
“Probably not. But I'll make a great editor when you're ready for a read through.”  
“I'll keep that in mind.” She watched as he scraped his plate clean, obviously hurrying to get back to whatever he'd been so deeply thinking about. “Dessert?” she asked.  
Mitch pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Sorry, can't. They'll be expecting Jackson and his team to return with a new hybrid soon.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down behind his glasses. “I'll tell you all about it tonight.” Leaning forward he gave her a quick kiss, then he was gone, striding away from the table, a couple of other people joining him as they swept out of the room. 

Jamie stared after him, her plate barely touched. Despite him saying he'd tell her all about it later, she barely got to see him at all, these days. When they'd first arrived at the hanger they'd been offered accommodation in the staff quarters nearby, but although Jackson and Abe, together with Chloe and Dariela had chosen to take up that offer, Mitch had instead preferred to use the Airstream as their home base. It was currently parked in front of the residential unit assigned to them, which they used for the bathroom facilities, but chose to sleep in the RV, the bunkbeds once more assembled for Clem to use, while Jamie and sometimes Mitch, slept in the bedroom at the back. Once or twice she had found Mitch fast asleep in one of the armchairs in the unit, probably having come home so late he'd never made it past switching on the television. When he did manage to get home at a reasonable hour, he spent as much time as possible with his daughter then came to bed exhausted, barely managing to talk to her, let alone have the energy for making love beyond spooning and cuddling.   
Now her days were spent in caring for the animals ultimately intended as food for the Razorbacks, as well as for the pot for the humans when populations became more than manageable. When she and Clem were done cuddling the rabbits or feeding the rodents, it was off to the hydroponic sheds to help out with checking temperatures and looking for any leaks or dry spots missed by the sprays. Occasionally she and Clem met up with Chloe and Dariela and the four exchanged work stories, catching up on what was happening in different parts of the new complex. Chloe was working in the administrative block, liaising with waste management and water purification for the immediate area, while Dariela had proved her abilities and was now part of the security details that patrolled the border fence looking for any breaches by human or animal as well as maintaining the electric fence generators and cameras powered by wind turbines and solar panels.  
Everyone seemed content in their allocated positions, but she wondered how long it was all supposed to last. Despite the initial impetus of threat that had created everything, the headway towards making something to combat the hybrids appeared to have ground to a halt, the level of excitement was reducing to a dogged determination to find something that linked the hybrids on a cellular, biological level that could be exploited. So far, other than using various combinations of banned or prohibited gases or dropping poisoned food, there hadn't been a breakthrough to affect only the hybrids and not also affect the wildlife around them as well. It explained a lot of Mitch's preoccupation and single-minded focus to the exclusion of everyone around him not associated with the project.   
Tipping her uneaten food into the waste bin, a faint twinge of guilt making her grimace, Jamie replaced her tray and plates in their collection bins and left the room. With her hands in her pockets, she stepped out into the sunshine, the days getting hotter with each week that passed. She pulled on her sunhat and walked to the hydroponic shed, her shift there about to start.

Mitch and several of his team of biologist and animal experts stood near the heavily strengthened glass tank that would house their newest hybrid. The forklift lifted the plastic container and carefully tipped it, the lid lifting and pouring the water into the tank along with its angry occupant, the eel landing with a splash, along with a number of milky globes that plopped into the water after it.   
“Are those eggs?”  
The forklift pulled back, taking the capture container with it. The scientist moved forward to watch the eel swim back and forth in the larger space, the eggs – some as large as a baseball – rolling on the glass bottom of the tank, each on encapsulated in a cocoon of thick slime.   
“Can we assume it's a female?” one asked. Mitch shook his head.  
“Unwise to assume anything at this stage. They could just be able to reproduce asexually.  
“parthenogenesis?”  
“Possibly. How is the dissection of the dead one coming along? Mitch asked. The pathologist tasked with that shook his head.   
“It's proving a challenge. The wretched creature won't stop producing the toxic slime, even dead it continues to ooze through the skin making doing a necropsy very difficult.”  
“See if you can establish if it has anything resembling sexual organs.” Mitch leaned forward to study the eggs, noting that there was already movement within one of them. “Maybe they spontaneously spawn when threatened, whether fertilized or unfertilized.”  
“As a defense mechanism? Like squid ink?” one of the biologists suggested.  
“Possible. The eggs, being smaller, would be more attractive than the large eel, but the eggs are still surrounded by the mucus, so they'd be as toxic as the parent.”  
“Quite. Neat trap, don't you think?” Mitch looked around at his team, willing them to embrace the leaps of logic that seemed so natural to him, but that they struggled to understand. It was hard to believe sometimes that these were the most qualified people the Military could lay their hands on from around the country. They seemed to sometimes struggled just to accept that someone, another human, had gone to all the trouble of creating these hybrids, the science beyond most of them to fathom outside the usual parameters of crossbreeding and hybridization in the normal way. Gene splicing and fiddling with actual DNA, admittedly, was not something they usually dabbled in, but now they were being forced to up their game and think outside the norms, faced as they were with the actual living examples of those exact sciences. Maybe he, Mitch Morgan, was the weird one in accepting and embracing these new possibilities without pausing for breath, able to deduce why one species had been chosen over another, why these animals somehow managed to cope with what they had to deal with. In his more fanciful moments, he wished he was Dr. Doolittle, able to communicate with the newly crafted animals and find out what they thought about it all. Internally, he mocked himself for being too light-minded, but it was still a fascinating thought.

By dint of barricading the parent in one part of the tank, they were able to extract the eggs for study, the slime able to be washed off to make examination that much easier. Mitch became so engrossed that it took him waking up at his workbench after pulling an all-nighter to realize he hadn't been back to the Airstream in days or, for that matter, seen Jamie or Clem in that time either.   
“Damn.” Taking a cautious sniff of himself he realized he was also in mortal need of a shower and change of clothes. Abandoning the slices of eel egg currently under the microscope, he got out of his chair and sauntered off to the residential units, ducking in to take a long, hot shower before wrapping a towel around his waist and padding over to the Audra Two outside, calling out Jamie and Clem's names as he entered. He was greeted with silence, a quick check of his wristwatch telling him it was just gone nine and his girls were probably hard at work somewhere doing something. His tired brain couldn't even supply the information about what they had been doing for the past six weeks. God, he was exhausted. Dumping his clothes in the shower box, he padded into the bedroom, the freshly made bed looking like heaven on Earth. Barely taking the time to remove his glasses and peel back the covers, he fell into bed and let out a long sigh of contentment. Within minutes he was asleep.

Jamie found him when she returned to the RV, having been asked late in the morning if she'd seen Mitch anywhere about. It seemed that he'd left his office and workbench without telling anyone and hadn't been seen since the first staff arrived in the laboratory just before nine in the morning. Since then, Mitch had been MIA. Not wanting to worry Clem, Jamie headed straight to the Airstream, checking the residential unit first before entering the RV. The muted sound of snoring led her unerringly to the bedroom to find a naked Mitch, towel tossed on the floor, deeply asleep under the covers. Knowing how hard he'd been working, she carefully pulled the sliding door closed and went to inform those that needed to know, that Mitch was taking a break and not to be disturbed. Nobody argued with her and she stopped by the commissary to collect a tray of food to take back with her, for Mitch to have when he finally surfaced.   
It was well into the afternoon before he stirred, waking to find the sun shining on the wrong side of the RV, his brain sluggish as it tried to orientate itself. When he finally figured out he been asleep for the best part of five hours, he put on his glasses and got up and dressed. Walking barefoot into the body of the campervan, he found Jamie sitting on the side sofa, feet tucked under her bottom, sipping from a mug and watching a DVD, headphones on so only she could hear the sound. She looked up at his approach and sent him a broad smile before taking off her headgear.  
“Better now?” she asked. Mitch sat down beside her on the two-seater and turned to face her.  
“Thank you.”  
“For letting you sleep? I think that was more of a medical emergency before you collapsed.”  
“Yeah. You're probably right. Been kinda going hard out over this hybrid situation.”  
“You have. Not that I'm complaining, but no one is working as hard as you are, Mitch.”  
He rubbed at his eyes, lifting his glasses off for a moment before replacing them. “I can't seem to light a fire under them, they just don't get how urgently we need to come up with something to knock these hybrids back.”  
Jamie gave him a look that he saw.   
“You don't think that's the case?” he asked her. Jamie shook her head.   
“I think that you see this as your personal crusade to find a cure or a solution to the hybrid issue. There are plenty of scientists out there who are working as hard as you are, they just don't punish themselves.”  
Mitch stared at her for a moment. “Huh.” He turned to stare off into the distance. “So what would you recommend?”  
“Maybe take a couple of days off, spend some time away from here with Clem.”  
Mitch nodded. “Sounds good. What about you?”  
Jamie tilted her head to the side, not meeting his eyes, drawing patterns with a fingertip on her leg. “Maybe after you spend time with Clem you could spend some time with me?”  
Mitch stared at her. “I've been a complete bastard, haven't I? I've been so wrapped up in this whole hybrid shit, I've completely ignored you and Clem.” He sat back against the cushions, pressing his hands over his face, the arm of his glasses dangling from between his fingers. “When was the last time we made love?” he mumbled from behind his hands.  
“Um....”  
Mitch dropped his hands. “Yeah. That's what I thought. You should have pulled me out sooner.”  
“Would you have listened?”  
Mitch turned to look at her. “Probably not. I'm sorry.”  
“There's no need. We both know how important this work it, and you are vital to the project. I just think you're pushing yourself too hard, and a sick Mitch is no good to anyone.”  
He grinned. “A sick Mitch, huh? Well, we can't have that. When is Clem due back?”  
Jamie twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “About an hour or so, around five usually.”  
“Plenty of time.” He bounced to his feet, holding out his hand for her to take. Jamie slipped her hand into his and got to her feet.   
“Mitch?”  
“Time I remedied some of my shortfalls.” He pulled her forward and bent to hook his arm under her legs, lifting her into his arms. “Have you lost weight?” he asked, frowning.  
Jamie decided that distraction was a good ploy and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck, recalling why she was in his arms in the first place. Suitably reminded, Mitch carried her to the bedroom, both of them falling onto the covers, all thoughts of hybrids and the problems of the outside world swept away for a short time. 

Mitch picked at the contents of the tray, Jamie taking small bites but leaving the bulk of the food for him to consume. They were both still naked, lying in bed, enjoying the aftermath of good sex, Mitch realizing how much he missed these times of quiet, just him and Jamie in a world of their own. Having had enough, he placed the tray on the floor and lay back on the pillows, turning his head to look at his lover.  
“You've lost weight,” he stated. “Have you been unwell? Have I been that unobservant?”  
Jamie, laying on her side, shook her head. “Not unwell, just a little worried.”  
Given the level of anxiety she normally lived with, him adding to it sent a spike of guilt jabbing at his heart. “I'm sorry.”  
She smiled. “No need. It's probably just the hard physical work we're doing. I probably need to increase my calorie intake or something.”  
“You don't have to work at all if you don't want to.”  
“I can hardly sit back and do nothing, Mitch. The hydroponics are vital for the production of fresh greens, with so many people here now...”  
Mitch frowned. He had been taking it for granted that given the seriousness of their mission, that they'd be getting the lion's share of the resources. “Exactly how bad is it?” he asked.  
Jamie drew in a breath. “Compared to how we lived at Westview? Things are pretty bad. You probably haven't really noticed, but red meat has been off the menu for some time. Chicken much the same, largely because whatever is raised is going to feed the hybrids, not the humans. While the hydroponics function, we have a good supply of fresh produce, but it's been awhile since anything came through from the east, probably battling the roads, gangs and possibly more desperate people on their way here. The city has already been largely picked clean, it's been mostly stuff scrounged from private houses that are keeping us going given the large workforce stationed here.”  
Mitch chewed at his bottom lip. “Fishing?”  
“You'd be surprised how much we're already eating made up of fish and fish products. Not that I'm complaining, but even that is starting to become a luxury rather than a staple. We have some eggs, and some wildlife – ducks, geese, occasional turkey that some in, but they are all spread pretty thin.”  
“I see. Or, at least I see now. I had assumed that being associated with the military we'd have access to more, but they're in the same boat as the populace, aren't they?”  
Jamie nodded. “Near enough. With no one flying, everything is having to come overland and it's not getting through.”  
“We're losing ground,” Mitch stated.  
“I guess you could say that. The problem is that with this group of people, only a small proportion are engaged in food and waste. The rest are, by current standards, non-productive. I know they are valuable and important and finding a cure for the hybrids is top priority but...”  
“Staring through a microscope or messing about with chemicals is hardly productive on the grand scale of things.”  
Jamie stared at him mutely. Nobody had wanted to say it, but everybody knew it. They were in a battle for their lives and resources were starting to run out. 

Mitch entered his office and shrugged off his jacket. He had stayed at the campervan long enough to see Clem home and share a meal with his family. Now that he looked at his loved ones he could see the changes in them, the lines of tiredness on both their faces, the loss of weight, hidden beneath loose clothes or multiple layers. If things were that bad now, they would only get worse the longer the hybrid problem continued. Sitting at his desk he reviewed how he'd conducted the hybrid research and realized that he had only been pursuing the angle of knowledge – finding out everything there was to know about what the creatures were made of, how they were put together, their origins. None of the current scientific work was focused on how to destroy them. If anything, what they were doing was more likely to preserve them rather than eliminate them. With this self-revelation, he got up and stalked from his office. In short order he organized a meeting of all the scientist and researchers, not giving a reason why just for them to be there.

After hours of discussion, reports on progress, levels of understanding and general talk about what they were supposedly doing, it was blatantly obvious that a number of the people involved in the hybrid project were working at cross purposes with the others. It came as a shock and almost to blows as project goals were brought into the light of day, plus personal agendas that had nothing to do with saving the world or the people in it. It became clear that there were three major reasons for the work being done. One was to find a way to obtain, tame and gain control over the hybrids with a view to using them, even weaponizing them – this was patently obviously the military goal. In another corner were the pure scientists who wanted nothing more than to discover what made the animals tick, dissect their physiologies and advance the general knowledge about them as if they were some new species discovered, a product of nature, which they assuredly weren't. The third faction was looking for a way to tinker with nature itself, even replicate what had been done already with other species, using gene manipulation with the hybrids as a template. What didn't appear to be anybody's goal – barely even Mitch's if he was honest with himself – was a study to find a weakness that could be exploited to eliminate the hybrids but still leave the native animals and insects intact, basically eradicate them as a species unto themselves, despite their diversity and consign them to history in one fell swoop. It was only when this was pointed out and made clear that no one was apparently working towards a solution, did the discussion grind to a halt. This revelation appeared to shock many of the scientists and researchers, Mitch hammering home the point by bringing up several facts and figures about the current situation within their own community with regards availability of food and the projected outcome if nothing was done to halt the hybrid invasion. Now voices were raised to focus the attention on a solution to the hybrid crisis, to find a way to curb their numbers with an ultimate view to eradicate them entirely. Satisfied that he'd turned the conversation successfully from pure research to finding a way to eliminate the hybrids, Mitch sat back and let his egg-heads loose on the problem. 

A second sea-born hybrid was brought to them, a juvenile squid with wicked hooks on the ends of its tentacles and an ability to live for long periods outside a water source, either fresh or salt. It also had the ability to squeeze its way through the smallest aperture, a tank required to house it offering both wet and dry environments inside. When it was examined and sampled it was found that despite its lethal intentions towards anything living, it also had the ability to regrow severed limbs with an accelerated healing property, something all the hybrids had, but in the squid was expanded to not only work on its own species, but on all species. When tested on a number of human viral and non-viral common ailments, the secretions and bodily fluids were found to provide a total antidote, plus when applied to an injury, provide complete healing of the wound on any living organism, including plants, animals, and humans. Outside of this miraculous development the squid creature had similar traits at a cellular level as all the other hybrids, this commonality a potential weakness that could be exploited, but now they had an ethical issue to consider. If they found a way to kill all the hybrids, and yet one held the cure for many human ailments, did they have the right to exterminate it along with its fellow hybrids? With the world in the state it was in, regards medical services and limited drug availability, the healing hybrid could be the answer for the many normally preventable deaths now happening due to lack of medicine or medical procedures.   
If they developed a way to poison or kill off all the hybrids, could they, or should they preserve this one hybrid for the sake of its potential for humanity? Could they even do that? Did whoever made the creature do this purposefully so that any attempt to wipe out the hybrids would come at a high price?  
Several meetings could not resolve the issue while efforts moved forward to find a way to kill the hybrids that was specific to them alone, but that would not affect any other species. That in itself was proving a problem because all the hybrids were based on original Earth-based species, meaning that whatever killed them would also kill whatever they were originally made from. A search was on to find a commonality between them that wasn't also present in the non-hybrids living in the same area, although it was argued that before much longer, there wouldn't be any more non-hybrids left to worry about if they weren't contained soon.   
A week of intense effort expanded into a month, the two strands of research and study being to find a factor to target common only to hybrids, plus a way to extract and/or synthesise the combination of factors that created the super healing properties of the squid hybrid including ways of isolating it from what was to come.  
The team sent to capture the hybrid vulture returned with two live specimens, which only added to the pressure when it was discovered how the creatures lived and what they could do en masse, and had done where they were found, the use of the hummingbird muscles now explained. The bird captures also brought news from the outside world, the team reporting that what news there was, was full of plans currently underway to create a barrier between the west coast of the America's from Alaska in the north, to nearly Guatemala in the south on the eastern side of the Rockies, effectively cutting off the hybrids from advancing further east. Any that were trapped east of the line would be killed, the barrier creating a line for a war of attrition against the newcomers. According to sources, The Barrier as it was known and referred to had been started as long ago as the first reported sighting, the possibilities of their spread already causing panic in the Senate and seat of government, all of the remaining workforce, including almost every military resource had been sent to the west to implement the biggest civil construction ever attempted. The initial progress of the temporary wall to allow a more permanent structure to grow behind it was well under way, the work gangs placed at intervals that would eventually all join up to form a barrier to certainly keep the ground hybrids back. The aerial and water-based hybrids would require a different approach, but by removing the threat of the predators it would allow the necessary agrarian communities to rebuild and start planting and raising stock again. With the very real possibility of starvation across the board, everyone was working to make America safe again and rebuild. Nobody disputed the news, most applauding the efforts of those building the barrier, but it raised a whole host of unforeseen problems for those who would be stranded on the wrong side of the barrier. In the week after the bird team returned, there were defections, people leaving to return to the east before they were shut in, logic having no say over panic as they fled. Those that remained only worked harder to find the elusive commonality to allow them to create a pathogen to wipe out the hybrids and leave everything else untouched. 

Everyone was becoming burnt out, the scientists were exhausted from long hours working through one possibility after another only to have them fail again. The workers behind the scenes were becoming weary of the never-ending grind needed to keep food on plates and to avoid them all being buried by the waste produced by human and animal alike. As news of the barrier seeped into the surrounding communities, people started to plan their exodus from the coast before they were shut in for good, no one considering that plans would probably be in place for just this situation further down the line, they wanted to get out now. Those that chose to stay started to build and fortify, modify and armor what they already had in place, similar to what Mitch had told the community at Westview to do all those months ago. Everyone at the project was given clear choices. Stay and hope that a solution would be found, leave the project but stay on the west coast and join a community there and hunker down, or evacuate and take their chances getting back to the eastern side of the barrier before it closed. Most chose to stay and work on a solution, all of them feeling they were just one breakthrough away from having it in their grasp. Those that chose otherwise were farewelled briefly, the gate closing tight behind them. For Mitch and the others, there was only one answer – stay.

Jamie coughed, covering her mouth before anyone could notice. She had been feeling breathless with each day that passed, the cough harder to hide as the temperatures lowered and they experienced their second winter on the west coast. Although it didn't snow or get as low as temperatures further inland, it was damp and foggy and the norwesterlies had a distinct chill to them. Working outside most days, she inevitably became chilled despite the numerous layers she wore to keep warm. She frequently worked beside Clem, the young girl wearing an almost permanent grim expression on her face as they weeded and tilled, handpicked the caterpillars and weevils, slugs and snails from the crops on a daily basis. They weren't alone, anyone not needed for the hybrid project was roped in to care for their food crops inside the huge, clear plastic tunnels that sheltered them from the worst of the weather and birds. Without the predation of the commercial fishing fleets, fish stocks were rising, but if the local fishermen netted a hybrid eel among their catch the whole lot had to be released because of the slime exuded which made the fish inedible. Even a clean catch was often found to be contaminated, the fish alive but tasting horrible after exposure to the hybrid slime. Luckily the chickens were thriving, helping out the humans with the battle against the bugs, running free among the rows of greenery. A steady supply of berry fruit had kept going through the late summer, but now there was little but vegetables to enliven their meals. Baked goods were scarce, bread a luxury, although cheese and eggs were readily available along with butter, so the kitchen crew kept everyone reasonably well fed. The problem was that it almost became an unwritten acceptance that the scientists were the priority and benefited from this thinking with the best that was available, while the rest made do with what was left over. Because the two groups ate together so infrequently due to different schedules and shifts, the glaring disparity between who ate what was never noticed or commented upon. So Jamie, already slender to start with, lost weight she could ill afford to lose and became ill, hiding the symptoms as best she could. Clem suspected, but as she saw her father even less than Jamie did, there was little she could do but keep an eye on her. A week after the cough started, Clem was called to one of the giant cloches, late in the day to be informed that Jamie had collapsed. They were carrying her out on a stretcher when she arrived, Clem taking hold of the limp hand on top of the blanket covering her and hanging on as the men carried Jamie to the infirmary and lay her on one of the beds. Jamie roused when a smelling capsule was waved under her nose, coughing drily and blinking to find herself not where she had been. She turned and saw Clem, smiling weakly.   
“What happened?”  
“You passed out between the broccoli and the onions.”  
Jamie coughed, gasping to regain her breath. “Damn. Don't tell your father, he has enough to worry about. We can't afford to have him pulled away from his work.”  
Clem frowned at her. “He'll want to know you're sick.”  
Jamie shook her head. “Doesn't need to worry about this. I'll be fine, I just need to rest a bit.” Again she smiled at the girl, feeling the tightness in her chest and recognizing it for what it probably was, a nasty dose of bronchitis. Clem didn't look impressed but didn't argue, just holding Jamie's hand in her own, refusing to leave. Jamie didn't fight her for long, too weary to keep up the bother of it. Soon she slipped into a light doze, her chill fingers warming in Clem's clasp. When the nurse had time to come and access her new patient, she tried to keep her expression neutral after listening to Jamie's chest and breathing, taking her temperature and examining her fingertips, something that confused Clem. The nurse smiled thinly at the girl before tucking the hand under the covers.  
“Will she be alright?” Clem asked. The nurse smiled more widely, but it still didn't reach her eyes.   
“I'm sure the warmth and some rest will perk her up. I'll be back a bit later. Can you stay?”  
Clem nodded. Even not knowing what Jamie was suffering from, the behavior of the nurse alarmed her enough to ensure she wasn't about to leave anytime soon. “I'm staying.”

They were so close he could taste it. Pushing himself to the limit, he had stayed at the lab for the past three days, working with his team to isolate the one thing all the hybrids had in common that was also different from ordinary animals. Alongside this search was the hunt for the Kryptonite pathogen that would target only the hybrids, a virus to be used to infect a series of populations that would be passed on with each contact and could be used repeatedly as each new population was found and isolated. He rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses and scratched at the growth of beard covering his cheeks and chin. Looking around at the other technicians, he saw the same bleary-eyed determination to bring the search to a conclusion. He hadn't been back to the RV in days and hoped that Jamie and Clem would forgive him for his neglect, understanding his need to be there at the conclusion of their long search for a solution to the hybrid crisis. It was dark outside and everyone was tired. Dismissing the team to go eat and sleep, he straggled back to his office, bone tired and gritty-eyed. Maybe tonight he'd sleep in his own bed and catch up with his family. He was just getting to his feet when Jackson knocked on his door. Sitting back down he waved his friend in.  
“Hey, Jackson, how things going?”  
“Mitch. Why are you here?”  
Mitch blinked at him. “Why wouldn't I be here?”  
Jackson looked at him, sympathy evident on his face. “It's Jamie.”  
Mitch stared at him slack-jawed. “What's happened?”  
“I thought you knew, otherwise I'd have said something sooner...”  
Mitch was on his feet, adrenaline coursing through him. “Where is she?”  
“Infirmary.”  
Fear lanced through him, a hundred and one scenarios chasing through his head as he barrelled out of the room, tiredness banished, Jackson on his heels. 

The infirmary wasn't a large building but serviced the population of the project with a small medical staff, mostly by retired nurses and a couple of pharmacists. Mitch was the closest they had to a doctor, but up until now nothing serious had required his attention. Jamie had been placed in a separate room, the threat of her condition being passed on, possibly to anyone suffering from a cold or lowered immune system, required her to be isolated. The room was warmer than the corridor outside, the patient in the bed still racked with shivers regardless of the air temperature. An oxygen mask was over her face and a drip in her arm, but neither could detract from the waxy pallor of her skin or the blue tinge around her mouth. Clem, sitting curled up in the chair beside the bed had a face mask on, her blue eyes huge as she stared at the woman, watching her chest rise and fall and trying to ignore the horrible rasping and grunts that sounded with each greedily drawn breath. Jamie herself was almost unrecognizable, her features drawn and grey, her hair dull and lifeless. Her collarbones stood out in stark relief, the hand resting on top of the covers looking skeletal.   
Mitch entered the room, mask in place, and stared at the woman in the bed. His daughter looked up, saw him, then jumped to her feet, running around the end of the bed to throw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Mitch hugged his daughter but his eyes were on Jamie, his heart hammering as he took in her condition and heard her labored breathing.   
“I didn't know...nobody told me...”  
Clem continued to cry out her fears, having kept a vigil next to Jamie ever since she'd been admitted. Mitch held her tightly, guilt and shame gnawing at him for leaving her to deal with it all alone. “I'm so sorry, Clem, so sorry...” He cuddled her until her sobs settled down to the occasional hiccup, all the time his eyes never leaving off watching the woman in the bed, the slow rise and fall of her chest, hearing the unmistakable sounds of pneumonia ravaging her lungs. Clem eventually pulled back, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt after lifting up the mask for a moment. When it was back in place she turned to stand at the end of the bed, tears still trickling down her face.   
“She's dying, isn't she?” Clem asked, not looking away from Jamie. Mitch reached for the clipboard hanging off the frame, his eyes skimming down the readings, concentrating on the numbers and notes, putting to one side his feelings for the woman and regarding her as a patient with a life-threatening illness. The nurse on duty entered, suitably masked, and he turned to her, his back to the bed.   
“We need to speak,” he stated, the woman nodding her head and backing out of the room. Mitch turned to his daughter. “I'll be back in a minute.”

“I'm sorry, Doctor Morgan, there's basically nothing we can do for her other than to keep her comfortable and wait for the end.”  
Mitch closed his eyes for a moment, grief sweeping over him. Biting back a curse he swallowed hard. “So no antibiotics, some paracetamol for the symptoms but nothing strong enough to fight it?” The nurse nodded. “In a nutshell.”  
“Prognosis?” Mitch asked. The nurse sent him a tight-lipped look and he nodded his understanding.  
“Thank you for looking after her and keeping her isolated. If this is viral we could have all sorts of problems.”  
“She's still fighting, Doctor Morgan, but without a miracle, it won't be long now. She's just got nothing left.”  
Mitch felt a sharp pain in his midsection, only able to manage a nod for the nurse, his throat closing up with grief. Patting the woman on the arm, he replaced his face mask and went back into the room. The nurse entered behind him carrying another chair which she placed on the opposite side to Clementine. After doing a quick check on the drip and catheter, she left, the door sighing closed behind her.   
Mitch didn't immediately sit down, preferring to stand beside the bed, looking down at the frail woman struggling to breathe despite the oxygen flowing over her face. Without access to strong antibiotics, Jamie's chances of fighting off the virus were slim to none. The best they could do for her was to treat the symptoms to allow her a comfortable, but inevitable death when her lungs finally filled and she drowned. He was already going through the choices of ending her life before that horrible fate took her from them, the obvious one of a sedative overdose to let her simply fall asleep never to wake up. Even as he considered it, he felt nausea claw at his throat. There had to be another way. He had always known that there would some situations that were simply beyond their ability to resolve without access to the pre-animal revolution level of drugs on the market. Even with them, not all patients diagnosed with pneumonia survived. It was possible that some were still available from those scavenged over at Westview, but he knew that the supply would be small and the community there probably adverse to giving away their chance of survival of one of their own. The alternative was to explore making their own penicillin or using herbal alternatives. All those would be fine for a patient in the early stages of the illness but Jamie was way past those stages now. He leaned over the bed, stroking back her once bright hair, a tear dripping onto his glasses and blurring his vision until he stood upright and wiped the spot away.   
“What's the use of all those scientists if they can't do anything useful!” Clem shouted at him, startling him for a moment, then he got a stunned look on his face.   
“What?!” Clem asked.   
“The octopus hybrid...” He started to leave, Clem jumping up to stop him.   
“Where are you going?” she shouted after him, tears flooding her eyes at his apparent desertion.   
“Stay with Jamie, I'll be back soon!!” he shouted back, racing down the corridor before the door had closed behind him.   
Clem sat back down, looking over at the woman in the bed, completely oblivious to the people around her or the drama playing out, her body still fighting to draw breath even as her lips turned blue and her lungs bubbled with each outward exhalation. 

No one could promise it would work, only that it acted like an antibiotic, a fast healing cure for cuts and abrasions with no apparent side effects. But that was as a topical treatment, not as an internal cure. Mitch didn't care, they didn't have the luxury of time to go through elaborate tests, and anyone seeing the state Jamie was in would agree this was likely her last Hail Mary. Harvesting the vital secretion took the longest, then he was racing back to the infirmary with a vial of the clear gel, intending to inject it into the IV line. If it took more than one dose, he'd be back for more.   
Jamie looked exactly as he'd left her, an ominous gurgle added to the catalog of noises she was making. Clem was dozing in the chair and sat up with a jerk when her father blew through the door, syringe in hand ready to inject the squid serum.  
“Dad?!”  
Mitch quickly injected the serum into the line, turning up the speed of the drip to get the serum into her veins as rapidly as possible. Then he stood there, syringe lax in his hand, watching Jamie's face for any reaction to the remedy. When she didn't immediately go into convulsions or some other side effect from receiving the hybrid juice, he sat down heavily in the spare chair, the face mask he wore sucking in and out as he caught his breath from running down the corridor. Clem had remained quiet, her wide blue eyes fixed on Jamie's face, attempting to detect the smallest change in the woman's appearance or condition. After half an hour and no sign of change, Clem sat back in her chair, her head lowered in defeat. Mitch sat with his elbows on his knees, hands either side of his face to support his bent head. It either had been looking at the patient, they would have seen that her lips had changed from blue to pale pink, her fingertips no longer lavender colored and that the gurgling sound had stopped.   
It was the absence of sound that made Clem look up, thinking that Jamie had stopped breathing altogether.   
“Dad?!!” she all but shrieked, standing beside the bed staring down at the patient. Mitch roused himself to look over and jumped to his feet as well.   
“Oh, my God!” He leaned over to lift off the oxygen mask, but still, there was none of the labored breathing, no wheezing or grunts, no gurgling or shortness of breath. “She's breathing normally!!”  
Mitch looked up to meet his daughter's gaze, the young woman holding her hands over her mouth as if expecting it all to be a horrible joke, instead of the miracle she'd been praying for. Mitch looked down at Jamie in time to see a tide of pink sweep over the gaunt face up to the roots of her hair, then down each follicle, burnishing each strand back to a coppery shine of good health. He knew his mouth was hanging open in shocked surprise, but he couldn't help it. The woman who had been as near death as it was possible, was coming back to life in front of his eyes and it wasn't taking hours or days, it was happening right now. He bent down to place his ear on Jamie's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat with no evidence that she was having difficulty breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling evenly. He looked down at the catheter bag hanging off the end of the bed, where before it had been a dark orange with little volume because her kidneys were shutting down, it was now nearly full of almost clear liquid, the excess water flushed through her body taking with it the toxins and excess fluid that had come close to killing her. He went to extract the needle in her arm, pressing on it to prevent it bleeding, but when he pulled his hand back, the skin closed instantly over the small hole, removing with it any bruising or sign of broken skin.   
For the grand finale, she opened her eyes, blinking up at the ceiling slowly before lowering her gaze to take in the company, still wearing their masks, standing beside her bed.   
“Hey,” she rasped, her mouth dry.  
Clem and Mitch just stared at her in shocked disbelief.   
Jamie stared back, a crease forming between her brows as they didn't move or speak back to her. She licked her lips and spoke again.  
“Can I have something to drink, I'm so dry....”  
Clem suddenly moved, tearing off her face mask and thrusting her arms, hands fisted, into the air and shouting inarticulately while jumping up and down. Mitch finally moved to take off his mask, lowering it to hang around his neck, hardly believing that it had actually worked and better than he'd ever hoped. Her words registered in his shocked brain and he moved to get her a plastic beaker of water from the sink, his hands trembling so much he spilled half the water before he carried it back to her. Jamie watched him with a worried frown on her face, not understanding his strange behavior or the reasons behind it. She made to sit up but he raised the bed instead before handing her the cup for her to drink from. She went to reach for it, surprised to see her hand trembling as if from weakness. Mitch saw the small movement and held the cup to her lips so she could drink.  
“Don't try to do too much too soon, okay? You've been really sick and will take awhile to get back on your feet,” Mitch told her, tilting the cup so she could take another mouthful. Jamie lifted her hand to push him away when she'd had enough, surprised at how feeble she felt.   
“How long have I been here?” she asked.   
“Three days since you collapsed,” Clem told her, tears of happiness spilling over despite her wiping them away. Jamie noticed the tears and thought the worst.  
“Am I dying?” she looked at them both, worry furrowing her forehead.   
“No. No, sweetheart, anything but,” Mitch assured her. “You were really sick but we found something to cure you.”  
Jamie sent him a tentative smile. “Well, that's good...” her gaze suddenly lost focus moments before her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side. Mitch leaned forward and reached for the pulse in her neck, finding it steady and strong. He let out a breath of relief, sitting down heavily in the chair before his legs gave out.   
“What happened?” Clem asked, staring at her father, then back at the unconscious woman.   
“Despite the miracle, her body has been seriously weakened and she just did too much, too soon.”  
“But she's going to be alright now?”  
Mitch gave in to the urge to grin. “I think she's on the mend now and will be fine given rest and good food.”  
Clem flopped back in the chair, drained by all the emotional rollercoaster of the past hour. “Wow. You should slap a patent on whatever that stuff is. It's amazing.”  
“It sure is,” Mitch replied, low voiced, his mind already turning over possibilities of application for such a wonder cure. If a single dose could bring a woman back from the brink of death in the space of an hour, what else could it be used to treat?

Jamie was out of bed the next day, confounding the nursing staff. Clem was there to help her take her first wobbly steps but it didn't take her long to feel good enough to get dressed and walk on her own, unsupported. Mitch arrived just as she was preparing to leave and return to the RV, preferring to recuperate in her own bed rather than in the infirmary.   
“Hey. Woah, you're up!!” Mitch exclaimed, entering her room, a bunch of flowers clutched in his hand.   
“Up and walking out of here. Are those for me?” He handed over the flowers to her, still in a daze.  
“You sure you're up for this?” he asked, exchanging a glance with Clem.  
“I'm fine, really. Come back to the RV and I'll show you just how fine I am!” she teased, giving him a wink. Mitch could only stare, his mouth open. With a slender finger, Jamie closed his mouth and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.   
“Thank you for the flowers, they are lovely. Can we go now?”  
Flanked by Clem and Mitch, Jamie made her way out of the hospital wing, thanking the staff before she left. The relatively short walk to the residential units was punctuated with people waving hello to her and calling out their thanks that she was all better again. Mitch wasn't surprised that Jamie was popular, although he did get a twinge of something when most of the well-wishers were male, part of the crew she worked with.   
At the RV they were greeted by a welcoming committee of Jackson, Abe, Chloe and Dariela, all bearing gifts to celebrate her homecoming. Jamie invited them all to come inside and spend some time together, and allow her to catch up on what she'd missed over those few days.   
Everyone was very complimentary of how well she looked, Jamie waving them off, having not seen herself in a mirror yet. Clem quickly remedied that when it was obvious Jamie didn't think there was anything different.  
“Here...take a look.” Clem held out a hand mirror for Jamie to look into. Everyone waited until she had taken a long look at her features, the healthy glow of her skin and shine on her hair, all sign of the illness – grey skin and blue lips, gone.  
“Wow.” Jamie handed the mirror back to Clem. “I'll admit I look better than I was expecting...”  
“You look bloody fantastic!” Dariela exclaimed, voicing what everyone else was thinking. It was as if Jamie had been reborn back to a more healthy, carefree time before the animal rebellion before all the stresses of her life had taken hold.  
“I suppose a miracle will do that for you,” Jamie joked, a little uneasy after seeing what all the fuss was about in the mirror. She had to admit even to herself she hadn't looked that young and vital for many years, worry and fear taking their toll, hard work and lack of food more so in recent months.   
“Boy, when everyone gets a look at you, they'll all want a dose of that wonder serum!” Dariela quipped, surprised when no one else thought it funny.  
“I didn't inject Jamie with the expectation of this,” Mitch retorted. “I thought she was going to die and the squid serum was an outside chance for her. It had to work damn hard to pull her back from the brink, who knows what it would do to a perfectly healthy human, so I'm not about to start testing it arbitrarily just because you want to look like you've been to a spa!”  
“Mitch, she didn't mean it like that,” Jamie rested her hand on his arm to calm him. “I'm sure that under certain circumstances it could be used to maybe do some running repairs on a person, but I think it's too soon to jump to that. Let's wait and see if there are any after effects. We know it will cure a serious, life-threatening illness, but we know little about what it did to me other than that. I'm happy to be the guinea pig, so you can take samples and swabs to make sure I am actually cured, not just temporarily reprieved.”  
“Good idea, Jamie,” Abe spoke up. “I think that is the excuse to give for not jumping to conclusions at this time. If nothing untoward occurs in the next few weeks, then maybe we can trial a small dose on somebody else, someone basically healthy and see what the results are. I'd be happy to be part of that trial.”  
Mitch looked at them both, his expression skeptical. “I just don't want the word miracle to be bandied about, it can make people do weird shit. We only have one of these squid hybrids, and I'd hate to lose it and its potential because it was drained dry for everyone to be rejuvenated.”  
“Agreed,” Jackson added. “I'll get on to our fisherman friend and see what he knows about getting our hands on another live specimen, just in case.”  
Chloe clasped her hands together in front of her face. “Wouldn't it be wonderful if it did turn out to be a universal panacea for all ills. It would put the pharmaceutical corporates out of business for starters.” She looked around the table. “I would mean no more Reiden Global, the biggest pharmaceutical manufacturing giant in the world, the ones primarily held responsible for the whole animal mutation disaster in the first place.”  
Her friends looked back at her blankly. “Huh?” Jackson asked.   
Chloe looked at them and made her mouth form an 'oh'. “You don't know about that?” Everyone but her around the table shook their heads.  
“Okay. Well, it is suspected by several government investigative agencies around the globe that GDJ International, the parent company of Reiden Global are responsible for seeding something called the mother cell into every product they ever produced, all around the world, which in turn caused the defiant pupil mutation in animals. At the time the news came out so much was in chaos nobody was very interested, but plans were in place to indict the corporate leaders and their top researchers for crimes against humanity and the world. With the onslaught of the animals and the death and destruction everywhere, it would have been put on hold until law and order were once more restored, I suppose. If this squid hybrid were to provide a solution to everything that ails us, that puts companies like Reiden global out of business, and GDJ International by association, something they can't wiggle out of. A fitting punishment for all the hurt they've caused.” Chloe finished her explanation with a self-satisfied smile.  
“Wow,” said Jackson. “I did not know any of that, but it explains a few things.”  
“It sure does,” said Mitch. “If this mother cell is in all our animals now, that might just be the difference between them and the hybrids, which could be the one weakness we can exploit.” He got to his feet, obviously preparing to run off to the lab with the latest news. A soft hand on his arm prevented him from moving.   
“You can save the world tomorrow, Mitch. I think, right now, we need to be together and enjoy this moment in time, don't you?” Jamie looked up at him with limpid eyes. Mitch stared back and then slowly sat down again.   
“Yeah. It can wait until tomorrow. We have so much to be thankful for right here and now. I'll put the cape and mask aside until the morning.” He smiled broadly, leaning over to give Jamie a lingering kiss while the others laughed and thumped the floor and table in appreciation.


	11. Achilles Heel

Jamie was closely monitored for the ten days following her miraculous, there really was no other way to put it, recovery from pneumonia. She patiently submitted to a blood, swab and urine tests every day, Mitch taking her blood pressure, listening to her heart and feeling her pulse before charting the results, seeing no appreciable change in the readings other than improvements as if whatever the squid serum had done was continuing its work within her. Her hair was thick and glossy, her skin had shed any evidence of sun damage, the fine lines starting to form on her face filling out and all but disappeared. It truly was as if she'd been spending time at a very expensive spa and taking every treatment to reverse the effects of aging that were possible. She had abundant energy, all the little aches and pains were gone, plus her muscles and tendons were as flexible as you'd expect in a much younger woman. Even the slight sag in her breasts was gone, the skin above tightening and lifting the flesh, making it firm again. It truly was as if she had been given the most extraordinary makeover. Most of the improvements were only discernible by Jamie and Mitch, her face the only bit of her visible to every one else, but in private Mitch mourned the loss of her freckles, even while enjoying some of the improvements, the tattoo on her shoulder almost gone as her skin continued to revive and rejuvenate itself.

Progress on the hybrid kryptonite was coming to a head. They had a formulation that would target just the hybrids as they appeared to have been formed without access to the mother cell that now infected every other living being on the planet. This absence now formed the basis of the potential cure, the team only now needing to find a vector to introduce it to a hybrid population to test if it was viable. A second team was working on synthesizing, if possible, the wonder serum that was produced in a concentrated form by the squid hybrid. The same substance was present in all the hybrids but in much lower concentrations, allowing the beasts to heal quickly from any wounds, which had made finding something to combat this rapid regeneration part of the problem in finding their nemesis. Now they thought they had cracked the chemical code of one, only to also want to retain and promote the other. Hence the two strands of research. A second squid had been captured and brought to the research center, allowing the team to run further tests and to try out various hypothesis, as well as work on producing more of the serum that had saved Jamie.   
Their resident endocrinologist was more excited than most, linking the production of the serum with the normal production of hormones, specifically related to growth and reproduction, the specialist actually growing a new squid embryo purely from the blood and some serum, something not usually accomplished but apparently an alternative to a normal reproductive process, developed exclusively for any one of the hybrids, when the theory was expanded to include them all. It almost seemed that at the same time it was taking to find a way to kill them, the hybrids were producing more and more reasons to keep them alive.

The time came when it was necessary to test their hybrid toxin on a pack of the creatures to see if it would be effective. All the time that they had been experimenting, they had also been compiling information about the movements of different hybrid packs and herds in the nearby ranges. Of course they could go back and retrace their route through the Sierra Nevadas, to Reno and try to test the toxin on the animals living there, but in the long run it was decided to test populations closer to home and visit the areas beyond the Golden Gate Bridge, where many of their most recent captures, for study, had been found.  
Mitch and a small team of his scientists would be going, along with a large contingent of security to keep the non-combatants alive long enough to disseminate the toxin. It was planned that they would first try and capture a goat, sheep or deer and put the toxin in that, leave it where the hybrids would find it and watch the what happened next. According to all they knew, it only needed one animal to ingest the vector and pass it on to the others in its pack to be effective. It would take time to achieve all these goals so they would once more form a convoy, heavily armed and prepared, hopefully, for nearly anything based on past experience added to the knowledge they'd learned to date.   
Jamie refused to be left behind. Mitch didn't want to put her at risk. Clem didn't want either one of them to go. Mitch's argument was it was dangerous, no comforts beyond the most basic with a chance of disaster along the way. Jamie argued that he needed her there to watch his back and keep him on track as well as fed and watered. Neither wanted Clem to come, which the girl was happy to abide by, having no desire to come up against the hybrids. Mitch knew he'd have his hands full keeping his team focused on the objective and making sure they achieved what they set out to do. Not having to worry about domestic matters would be a huge plus, but he also worried that she'd already been through so much, it was tempting fate to put her once more in the line of possible harm. She argued that she was no more in harm's way than he was or any of the others. The security team, ably headed up by Jackson and Abe, also acting as trackers, would be looking out for everyone's safety, a load he didn't have to worry about. And anyway, why was it okay for him to put himself in harm's way and not her? As part of the bigger picture, Mitch was more important than nearly anyone else, yet he was quite ready to jump into the middle of the hunt to test the toxin. Jamie also argued that Chloe and Dariela would be remaining behind and very willing to look after Clem until they returned.   
In the end, Mitch conceded defeat, quite relieved privately to have Jamie at his side for all sorts of reasons.  
They gathered as much tracking and hunting equipment as they could pack, including darts to attach beacons to the creatures to allow them to more easily track them to their lairs to see how the toxin worked on the larger pack. Accommodation would be sleeping in the back of a heavily armored Unimog-style all-terrain troop transport, basic and not very comfortable, but great workhorses in rough conditions. Additionally, there would be three armored and weaponized four-wheel drives, scouts that could be used as 'hides' when the trap was baited to allow the scientists to observe the hybrids safely. It was expected that the trip into the coastal range would take the best part of the week from start to finish, so supplies were taken sufficient for that purpose, along with a formidable collection of weaponry and personal body armor, to make sure everyone survived the encounter.  
Some work was carried out on the vehicles before they were ready to go, welding mesh to protect windows and wheels, rudimentary bunk shelving fitted to the Unimogs to provide sleeping quarters for their time away, along with installing crude bathroom facilities so that no one had to go outside and risk their lives for the sake of a need to pee. After every eventuality was taken into account, the convoy was made up of six modified transport vehicles that could be matched end to end to allow the people inside to move between two of the trucks with ease, plus interior sleeping space for eighteen, made up of three scientists, including Mitch, twelve soldiers, two trackers, Abe and Jackson and finally Jamie. The soldiers would be the drivers of the trucks while Abe and Jackson would drive two of the heavily modified and armored scout four-by-four's containing the scientists plus the hybrid toxin. Mitch and Jamie would drive the third scout vehicle behind the lead trackers. All were connected by radio to each other and everyone was aware of the importance of the mission and its objective. There were several cameras on the vehicles, plus dashcam and helmet cam to document the trip, the footage for examination later. Noone was under the illusion this would be a simple or easy jaunt into the forest. It could take them longer than expected, or shorter, they just didn't know. 

Clem, Chloe, and Dariela bid a tearful farewell to the adventurers in the predawn light, the convoy trundling out of the compound under an overcast sky. As the fortified gates shut behind the last vehicle, they headed towards the highway that would carry them over the Golden Gate Bridge to the other side, there to start their hunt for the hybrids. They weren't fussy which breed came first, they just needed one to start the test of the toxin.   
As the sun rose over the horizon they crossed the bridge, for some, it was only the second time they'd done so, the ubiquitous fog absent leaving the views spectacular as always. As they rumbled their way across the span, Mitch idly wondered how long the bridge would stand without the regular maintenance it demanded as its due. It had already been the best part of three years without a new paint job or check over, the results being a shabby appearance, but no evidence of broken railings or snapped cabling as yet. Possibly the reduction of traffic on the bridge aided in keeping it in good heart for longer, but one day it would fail spectacularly.  
They quickly got off the highway to head east onto the Marin headlands, passing through the hundred-year-old Bunker Road tunnel before winding up into the hills. Their initial target was the marine mammal center above Rodeo beach, then they'd explore the side roads in and around there, go offroad if any tracks were found, otherwise explore all the roads leading off the main to find evidence of hybrid activity. When they reached the carpark of the center, Jackson halted the vehicles before they could enter. He and Abe, suitably armed, started to quarter the dirt, searching for any evidence of animal activity. At one point Abe waved Jackson over and the two conferred on a set of prints before moving on. Everyone else stayed in their vehicles and waited. Eventually, the two men returned to Mitch's vehicle to report what they'd found.   
“A few tracks that could be Razorbacks, but not in huge numbers,” Jackson reported. “But then I imagine large game animals will be scarce up here. They're more likely to look to hunt on the beach for seal and walrus as prey if they are anywhere.”  
“There are plenty of goat and deer tracks, which is not surprising in this terrain,” Abe added. “But little cover for the hybrids, I'm thinking. Of course, it may only be a small pack hunting this area.”  
Mitch nodded. “We'll get a better idea once we try the beaches. We'll try Rodeo first and go from there.” Mitch radioed to inform the rest of the convoy while Abe and Jackson got back onboard their vehicles, leading them all back down the hill to the turnoff for the beach. There they were faced with a beach largely swept clean of all evidence of people, leaving only the tracks of birds and larger mammals imprinted on the grey, gritty sand. Leaving the larger vehicles to wait on the road, the three off-roaders slowly advanced across the sand and pebbles, down the length of the beach searching for spore or prints to indicate activity and quantity of animals. They found several carcasses of seals, the bones scattered in the manner of predators, unlike a natural death where the bones, for the most part, remained intact. Here they found many tracks and spore, evidence that a small pack of hybrids had been on the beach above the high water mark as recently as a week to ten days past, according to the level of decomposition of the dead seal. The tracks led off into the scrub surrounding the lagoon which was too marshy for the cars, too easy for an ambush to risk going after them on foot.   
They returned to the convoy and continued to retrace the road to the visitors center. There, they found a track wide enough for the smaller vehicles, so the larger stayed there to wait for them. The track would take them down to the beach on the opposite side of the lagoon. It was only intended as a walking track, but still wide enough for a maintenance vehicle to get by, so just wide enough for the four-wheel drives to negotiate if a bit squeaky at times. Once on the beach, they were able to drive around the end of the beach and along the coast until the headland stopped them. Here they found more evidence that a pack of hybrids was feeding in the area, the seal carcass only a few days old. From the size and number of the prints if appeared to be a small pack made up of youngsters with either an alpha pair leading or possibly the younger member's parents. Either way, it was a positive start. As the body of the seal was relatively fresh, they injected some of the toxin into the flesh, careful not to touch it or alert the hybrids that humans had interfered with it. They'd come back and check on it the next day for signs of further predation. Mission accomplished, they all got back in their four-by-fours and headed back to the others, negotiating the narrow dirt track with care.  
From there they climbed into the hills, passing an old missile site surrounded by high fencing, the road steep but in good condition. All over the landscape were the red and white buildings, remains of the military presence on the headlands from before and after the first and second world wars, now given over to holiday accommodation or simply historic buildings lending color and their stories for visitors to learn about. Every stretch of windswept dirt was searched for tracks, a map of the area marked with evidence found. Eventually, they had covered the headland and were ready to move on to the next area north, the Tennessee Valley Cove and Muir Beach areas.   
A quick retrace of their route back to the highway saw them jump on, then jump off again a short distance north, the Tennessee Valley Road winding alongside Coyote Creek among heavily forested hillsides, crisscrossed with walking tracks and cycleways, the landscape a direct contrast to where they'd just been on the headland, where there were few trees and mostly low scrub. They reached a dirt layby and Jackson stopped to check it, but it was too churned up to reveal much, recent rains sweeping any old tracks away. A little further on and they encountered a huge carpark for a livery stable and trailhead, where people now went onwards via foot, bike or horse if they wanted to explore further. Here Abe found evidence of another, different hybrid pack to the one on the beach. This was a large collection of animals of different ages and weights. Given the number of horses the livery would have stabled, when it was closed the animals were probably let loose to forage in the hills, forming a sizable herd, and a ready food source for a big pack of hybrids to live off. Part way up the road to the stables they found the remains of an adult horse, only skin and bone, left to bleach in the dirt, a meal that would have fed a pack for many days. Scat confirmed the hunters to be hybrids and not a big cat or dogs, so they were in the right area. Pushing onwards, past the trailhead, the road was intended only as a walking track and not maintained for vehicles, becoming potholed and rough in places, the landscape resuming its scrubby appearance as they approached the coast and Tennessee Cove. In short order, the tarmac was replaced with plain dirt, swept clean by wind and water, no evidence that humans had ever tramped the road in years past. Here, as before, a quick stop found evidence of the Razorbacks, making use of the easy traveling along the road rather than through the thick scrub rising up on either side. In the distance they got a glimpse of the sea through a steep cutting, the two hillsides creating a sharp 'V' leading to the beach.   
This, like the others they'd seen, was grey and gritty, the towering headlands on either side showing signs of severe erosion from the sea, wind and weather with huge slips of the earth in recent years and jagged erosion exposing rocky, sheer cliffs rising from the waves. There was no path for vehicles or walkers around the ends of the hills, so they stopped to inspect the beach, seeing a flock of seagulls rising and falling around something at the south end. Abe went to investigate, reporting another half-eaten seal just above the high tide line, this one only a day or two old. Again it was injected with the hybrid nemesis and left for the pack to consume, marked on the map to be checked in a day or so to see if it had been ingested by other than just the birds.   
The convoy made its way back to the trailhead, to the livery stables. The morning was gone and they decided to break for something to drink and eat before pushing on to the Muir beach, using a tortuous route over the hills that was little more than a poorly maintained dirt road connecting up with the Shoreline Highway after a mile or two but also cutting through prime hybrid country.  
Everyone was glad to get out and shake out their legs, especially as the next stretch was going to be a slow bone shaker without a doubt. Those not driving kept watch, while the drivers worked out the kinks or lay down to rest their backs inside the trucks. Abe and Jackson pored over the maps they had of the area, discussing likely territories covered by the hybrids, also where they should look to find one of the herbivore herds to test the toxin on them. They already knew it would take a direct injection of the huge animals to be effective, unlike leaving the poison in something they were going to eat, like with the Razorbacks. The Rhinobison had only one weakness in their body armor, a small patch of furred skin covering their throats, directly under their chins. It would take an extraordinary marksman to hit the target, but they had one of those onboard and the gun necessary to make the shot. The only other alternative was to track the herbivores and see what they ate, the option of spraying their potential food on the table if the other wasn't effective enough. It largely depended on how big the herd was and how much ground they covered. So much was still unknown about the creatures and their behaviors, something this field trip, it was hoped, would remedy.   
The trip over the hills was truly as bone-rattling as expected, any attempt Jamie made to look through the field glasses to see further than the track were thwarted by the ruts and bumps making her teeth clash together.   
“I think it's been awhile since they graded this bit!” Mitch shouted over the growl of the engine and noise of the wheels over the gravel washout they were negotiating. The hard suspension was ensuring they'd be counting the bruises when they finally camped for the night, the trucks following only having a marginally better time because of their high wheel clearance. Jamie hung on to the seatbelt strap with grim determination, having been assured the track, although tortuous and winding as fuck, was only a couple of miles in length, a half hour tops at a slow speed. The two off-roaders up ahead had stopped so they ground to a halt as well.  
“What's up? Jackson?” Mitch thumbed the radio. They both looked at the receiver expectantly, but there was no reply. “Jackson? What's the holdup?” Mitch tried again. A dull thundering noise impinged on the relative quiet, easily heard over the engine idling.   
“What is that?” Jamie asked, looking out of her window at the thick bush brushing against her door.  
Mitch thumbed the mike again. “Jackson! Abe? What the hell is going on?!” Their vehicle started to shimmy and shake.  
“Are we having an earthquake?” Jamie cried out, lifting her hand to brace herself on the ceiling of the cab.   
Mitch could see the four-by-fours ahead being jostled on their suspension the same as they were and when he looked out of his window at the ground, the pebbles and dust were dancing. “Maybe...”  
Instead of fading away, the growl of rolling thunder sounded closer, the occasional bellow punctuating the air, hinting at what was happening.   
“Not earthquake....stampede!!” Mitch shouted. “Hang on!”  
The first beast burst out of the scrub and onto the road, leaping forward between the vehicles, horn tilted to the sky, hooves a blur as it passed. Everything was shaking violently, the car being shimmied and bounced as more of the rhino hybrid broke cover at a full run, some barging into the cars and trucks, shunting them off the road and into the scrub. More and more of the heavily armoured animals bellowed and shoved their way through the convoy, some of them using their horns to stab at the trucks, the drivers and passengers scrabbling onto the seats when the horns pierced the metal work and came through the sides and floorpan's, Jamie screaming when a horn was shoved through her passenger door, only the fact she was already leaning on Mitch because the car was tilted saved her from being skewed, the four-by-four pushed further onto its side as more beasts used it like a pinata, leaving gaping holes in the bodywork, the occupants only saved by the fact the vehicle was tilted so far over they were practically at ground level. When the herd had finally lumbered past, the Razorbacks put in an appearance, jumping and leaping over the vehicles, pouncing on bonnets and snarling at the humans inside, swiping at the metal grills over the windows and chewing at the tires when they could reach them.   
With their vehicle on its side, Mitch and Jamie were huddled against his driver's door, staring at the hybrids through the cracked windscreen, the animals looking for a way to get in, muzzles pushed into the holes made by the Rhinobison, but finding no crack big enough to admit them, much to the human's relief. The crack of a gunshot split the air, the hybrids disappearing into the thick cover on either side of the road, a hyena-like cackle following them as they fled.   
By some miracle, the herbivores had managed to avoid damaging the fuel lines, brake lines or fuel tank while punching holes in the metalwork leaving holes as big as a fist behind. All the men together managed to roll the downed car back onto its wheels after getting Mitch and Jamie out through the passenger window. Battered, but still driveable, the convoy restarted along the track, all of them amazed at how the huge rhino hybrids had managed to stampede through the brush without leaving a wide swathe of damage to mark their passage. If they didn't have the damage and jangled nerves to show for it, they'd think the attack had never happened. At the end of the Miwok trail they were all glad to get back onto a sealed road, the Shoreline Highway in good condition and providing a quick trip to the east coast and the settlement of Muir Beach. The road wound around the contours of the hillsides, the ground cover back to scrub with few trees. Jamie had the field glasses out and was scanning the ridge lines, excitingly pointing when she spotted a herd of Rhinobison loping through the scrub like it was grass, the animals running independently instead of one after the other, explaining why they left hardly any tracks to follow, the hardy growths springing back into place behind them.   
“The Razorbacks seem to be herding them,” she reported, keeping the herd in sight despite the twists and turns of the road. “I can just see some smaller, darker bodies in and among them, as well as bringing up the rear.” She lowered the glasses and looked over at Mitch. “If I was making a guess, I'd say they are flanking us.”  
Mitch met her worried glance with a thoughtful stare before returning his attention to the road. “Let me know when they drop out of sight.”  
The road was winding its way down towards the coast, the valley below filling up with trees and human habitation and activities, some long abandoned and overgrown. When they reached the carpark leading to the beach they paused. The community was ranged on the headland, staggered up the steep hillsides from top to bottom, the dunes on the southern side devoid of buildings or any constructions other than walking tracks. Jamie had reported the herd had vanished before reaching the beach, the hillside to the south folding in on itself, the animals veering away and out of sight. Knowing the hybrids were almost breathing down their necks they did a quick reconnaissance of the beach before turning around to drive back to the intersection where the Pacific Way joined the Shoreline Highway, a picturesque Tudor hotel perched on the corner – The Pelican Inn. They'd seen no sign of residents or any human occupation at the beach or anywhere along any of the roads they'd traveled that day. With the lack of resources and the isolation, it was hardly a surprise that those that had survived the animal mutations had fled to the city for greater protection and access to food. Now, with the day drawing in, they prepared to settle for the night at the junction. Jamie was keen to explore the historic building before the light went, Mitch and Abe joining her while the soldiers maneuvered their vehicles ready for the night.   
The charming Inn, finished in a whitewash, glowed gold in the afternoon sun, named for the ship sailed by Sir Francis Drake, which had beached somewhere on the Marin Coast, his “Pelican”, later renamed the Golden Hinde, in the area some four hundred years ago, to claim California for Queen Elizabeth I and her descendants forever. Despite its appearance of authenticity to the fifteen hundreds, it was only forty years old, an Englishman's folly and the only commercial building in the area. It appeared intact, non of the windows or doors broken as they approached through the overgrown front garden, plants and weeds seeded amongst the brick walkway leading up to the door. The door wasn't locked so they pushed it open and went inside. There was no power and only a little light let in by the latticed windows, Jamie glad she'd thought to bring a torch with her. Cobwebs fluttered in the beam of her torch, the influx of air from the front door stirring up the thick layer of dust on all the surfaces.  
The three of them fanned out to explore, Mitch ducking behind the bar, finding a wealth of alcohol still held in the dispensers hanging above and below the wooden benchtop. Jamie found the stairs leading up to the bedrooms and went up, parting the curtains of webs festooning the banisters and shrouding the pictures lining the walls. At the top, she had a choice of doors leading off the narrow corridor, the first door revealing a canopied double bed in a spacious room with leaded windows, more pictures and ye-olde style furnishings and fabric. After exploring some more and finding all the bedrooms dressed in the same styling, she peered out of the hallway window on the opposite of the building to the one they came in, seeing more room for cars and a glassed gazebo on the ground floor for outside seating. Making her way down the stairs she met Mitch coming up, Abe behind him, the big man having to hunch and duck to avoid knocking his head on the low ceilings in places.   
“Find anything interesting?” Mitch asked, Jamie running up the stairs in front of him affording him a nice view of her rear.  
“Just bedrooms, bathrooms and a cleaning closet. The beds are pretty cool, they all have canopies and look very Elizabethan. No televisions or telephones that I could see, either.”  
“You like this kind of thing? It's all a bit gothic and ghostly if you ask me.”  
“And very small,” Abe added, ducking to avoid nutting himself on a door lintel.   
“Then you really don't want to go into the bedrooms at the end. They have sloping rooves and I don't think you'd be able to stand up at all.”  
Abe sent her a long-suffering look, opened one of the bedroom doors and promptly sneezed, very loudly. Mitch winced at the noise and Jamie clapped her hands over her ears before turning to head back to the stairs.   
“I'll see you guys downstairs!”  
Mitch batted at the hanging curtains of cobwebs, a look of disgust on his face. “I think I'll join her.”  
Abe let out another enormous sneeze, nodding in agreement and following Mitch down the hall to the stairs. Before they reached the bottom, Jamie screamed at them not to move. She was sitting on the bar, her feet held off the floor.  
“What's the matter?” Mitch asked. “Did you see a mouse?” Mitch and Abe exchanged a purely male glance of amusement, while Jamie glared at them both.   
“It wasn't a mouse. It looked like... I thought I saw...” she stuttered to a halt, biting her bottom lip.  
Mitch held up his hands. “What?” then he saw something move in the layer of dust coating the floor. “Holy fuck, what is that?”  
Jamie was pointing, lifting her feet higher. “That's what I saw!”  
Abe was darting his head back and forth, unable to see much past Mitch blocking the stairwell.  
Mitch actually took a step back, stepping on Abe's foot. “Sorry mate, but there's a fucking invisible snake down there!”  
Abe understandably laughed, both Jamie and Mitch sending him a glare.  
“It's true, look at the floor, you can see it's trail!” Jamie told him, the big man still smiling, but now staring at the floor, his smile turning to a frown as he easily followed the tracks of what was obviously some sort of snake. Jamie shone her torch on the wooden floorboards to highlight the trail, the sudden light apparently attracting the snake as it appeared to slither, albeit invisibly, towards the source, Jamie giving out a scream and dropping the torch to the floor to clamber further onto the benchtop. As Mitch and Abe watched, the invisible reptile approached the light across the dusty floor and started to curl around it, a pattern of scales starting to appear as no one made any move towards it, or any threatening gestures either. The hybrid was roughly four feet long, big enough to warrant respect, with a blunt head and the ability to fade in and out of the visual spectrum, making it appear invisible to the naked eye. Having investigated the torch, the snake reverted back to being visible and slithered across the floor towards the outside door, turning invisible just before it went through the door and into the last of the afternoon sun.   
“Well, that was unexpected!” Mitch announced, letting out a breath he'd been holding.   
“God, I hate snakes...” Jamie moaned, not getting down off her perch even when Mitch and Abe finally descended the stairs, both men staring down at the snake's tracks.  
“Explains why there's no sign of rat or mouse damage in the place,” Abe observed. “Snakes make great rodent hunters.”  
Jamie gave an exaggerated shudder and finally lowered her feet back to the floor, bending down to pick up the torch. “Maybe we should warn the others?”  
Mitch nodded. “Yeah. Best not to wander around in the dark with a torch if it attracts them.”  
“Another to add to the list.”

News about the invisible snake was received with mixed reactions, one being a more intense inspection of where the trucks were joined, to make sure no gaps were evident, so no light escaped to attract the latest addition to the hybrid catalog. Assuming the latest hybrid was venomous, a curfew was put in place to avoid anyone wandering around with a torchlight during the night, no one disputing the ruling.  
An uneasy night followed, not many getting a full nights rest, but the trucks proved their worth when tracks were found around them in the morning, indicating the hybrids had been to investigate the intruders into their hunting range. Jamie insisted on a complete search of the vehicle she and Mitch were to use, fearing that the holes could have allowed an invisible snake to get inside unseen and unnoticed. Nothing was found, but she remained on edge for the rest of the day. Abe and Jackson had left at first light to check on the previously bated beaches, to assess if the toxin seeded in the dead seals had been effective or ignored. Both returned a couple of hours later as the convoy was packing up ready to move on. Everyone gathered around to hear their report.   
Jackson looked grimly resolute. “The toxin works very effectively,” he announced, no hint of joy taken in the announcement.   
“Why the long face?” one of the scientists asked. “If it works, that's a good thing.”  
Jackson glanced at Abe before speaking again. “We returned to the first site and found evidence the carcass had been fed on, as we expected it would. There were tracks leading into the dunes so we followed. Not far inland we found the hybrid pack. As we expected it was only small, half a dozen individuals, mostly youngsters only a few months old. They were all dead.”  
A small cheer greeted this information, but neither man took any pleasure in the news. Jackson carried on with his report. “We went to the second at Tennessee Valley and found a similar situation, but on a larger scale. Again the seal had been eaten, pretty much finished by the pack and we tracked them into the dunes, finding them not far away, but not all of them dead. Several were very young, still suckling at their dead parent's teats, others were not dead yet, struggling to get up and attack or defend, whichever, either way, they were dying. Abe and I finished off anything still breathing, then did a measure and count, same as we did for the first pack. There was no evidence at either site that any other creature had been affected, despite it being obvious that flies, crabs and birds had been feeding on the same dead seals since yesterday. As a test of toxicity, it appears to have exceeded our expectations in regards the Razorbacks at least. The samples will confirm this.”  
A ragged round of applause greeted his report.   
“That's fantastic news, guys, all our hard work is finally paying off,” said Mitch. “Now if there was just a way we could find to see how it works as a topical application.”  
“Well, for that we'd need to find the herbivores and see where they feed. We know they're in the area from the stampede and seeing them run the ridges, we just don't know where they overnight and generally graze,” Abe explained.   
“We could use one of the drones for aerial reconnaissance?” one of the soldiers suggested.   
Mitch looked surprised. “We have drones?”  
“Last minute decision, sir,” the soldier went on. “They could fly over the headland and maybe spot the herd?”  
“Perfect. No risk to life and limb. Get it underway, the sooner the better.”

The drone operator was able to find the herd and their watchdogs just before he was near to recalling it before the batteries gave out. They had followed the progress of the small aircraft on the map and could pinpoint where the Rhinobison were, in a small, sheltered valley just above the approach to a beach not previously used by humans. The hybrids were already grazing, probably getting their morning drink from the heavy dew on the plants, the area they were chewing down encompassing most of the valley, indicating they'd been there for some time. Even there, there was a lack of marked trails other than the man-made walking tracks, suggesting the hybrids used those rather than cut new trails through the dense scrub.   
With the drone brought safely back to earth, they watched the footage again, noting the adult Razorbacks apparently guarding or monitoring the herd, the herbivores not phased to have the lethal predators nearby.  
“Is there any way we can modify the drone to carry a sprayer so we can drop the toxin without them being aware of it?” Mitch asked.  
“Oh, they know it's there,” Jackson told him, taking the footage back to a certain point and everyone watching as one of the large hybrids guarding the herd pointedly looked up at the sky, directly into the lens of the drone camera. “They just don't care.”  
As the group of hybrid hunters stood around discussing, sipping their coffees and enjoying the weak morning sun an unearthly howling started to echo around the hills.  
“What the hell?” one soldier exclaimed as the one howl was joined by others, the sound both mournful and threatening at the same time. Jackson emptied out his mug onto the dirt.  
“Guess they found their dead pack mates.”  
“Yeah.” Mitch stared up at the hills and their hidden threat. “Time we moved on.”

Jamie drove while Mitch sat with one leg up on the dashboard, his workbook open so he could scribble ideas of disseminating the toxin as a spray on the area the herbivores overnighted. The drone was a good idea to start from for the early tests, but it would take an army of drones and human controllers to make inroads into the populations if they continued to spread and multiply the way they were currently going. Plus he was knocking around the idea of creating an aerosol spray to be used as a personal defense if a human was attacked, would it work before the creature had a chance to inflict damage, a bit like the pepper spray method. Again, it was still only a localized solution, but one worth exploring in the short term. So far they'd only tested the ingestion method, they would have to explore a whole range of options, as well as a thought that had just occurred to him while watching Jamie's reaction to the snake. Was it likely that she would be affected by coming in to contact with the toxin, and if so what effect it would have as she had the hybrid serum administered to save her life? Would it kill her, as it did other hybrids? Was she now a hybrid because of what he'd done? Could a human with some level of hybrid in their system be susceptible to the poison like any other hybrid? He stopped writing and looked over at her, stricken that he hadn't thought about that option before. Could spraying or an aerosol kill her or anyone else treated with the hybrid cure? What about if they were just bitten, or scratched by a hybrid, would that make them vulnerable? Would it kill them if they got it on their skin, or did they have to breath or eat it to have the toxin kill them? Mitch felt sweat break out on his forehead, his hands suddenly shaking with the implication of what his brain was thinking about. Good God, he could kill her by accident and not realize it. What had he created? In his haste to develop a hybrid toxin, had he also created a potential destroyer of more human beings? He dropped his workbook and pen, his boot sliding off the dashboard with a thump. Jamie looked over at him.   
“You alright? You look...odd?”  
Mitch turned to stare at her, aghast at where his thoughts had taken him. He opened his mouth to speak but panic took over and he couldn't make a sound. Seriously worried, Jamie pulled over to the side of the road and stopped on the shoulder.   
“Mitch? What is it?” She reached for him but he pulled back, his panic taking over and logic abandoning him for the moment. The radio squawked with voices asking why they'd stopped and what was the matter? Mitch bolted, flinging open the passenger side door and almost falling out of the four-by-four in his haste to escape his thoughts. Thoroughly alarmed, Jamie got out the other side and walked towards him, but he flung his hands out to stop her.   
“I nearly killed you!” he blurted out, his voice high pitched. Jamie stopped and stared, not remotely understanding. Jackson and Abe both approached, taking in Mitch's state and Jamie's obviously confusion in a glance.   
“Hey, what's the matter?” Jackson asked. Mitch now standing with his hands on his knees, bent over and sucking air into his lungs as if he'd been running. Abe approached slowly.  
“Mitch? What is it? What is that big brain of yours thinking?”  
Mitch straightened up, one hand coming to rest on his hip, the other gesturing to where Jamie stood. “We never thought...never occurred to me. God, I could have killed her!”  
Jackson looked over at Jamie, who shrugged having no idea what was up with Mitch. Abe waved them back.  
“What never occurred to you?”  
Mitch turned to the big man, his eyes wild. “We were so busy making something to kill the hybrids, we never extrapolated it any further, only as far as it didn't hurt the native animals and insects. But what about those that could have hybrid DNA in them? What about those that might have been bitten or scratched and now carried hybrid cells in their blood, their bodies? We didn't stop to think about them. If we turn this toxin into an aerosol and spray it indiscriminately, how many people are going to die because they have hybrid cells in them? Do we even know if they will be affected? If we use that squid serum to cure someone, does that mean the toxin will kill them, or if they pass that on to a fetus, will it kill the child?”  
Mitch was talking directly to Abe, ignoring the worried faces of his friends and the soldiers and scientist standing around. Abe looked somewhat dumbstruck by what Mitch was saying, as were the scientists, none of them having considered the ramifications for those directly in contact with the hybrids and toxin alike.  
Mitch wasn't done. “What if, by dint of drinking from a water source, hybrid saliva gets into the water, and people drink that water...does even that small amount of DNA mean they will die if we aerosol the toxin and spray it in the air? Even if they were to protect themselves from breathing it in, as soon as they drink from that water source with the toxin in it, or eat something the toxin has landed on, will that kills them? We could inadvertently kill off what remains of the human race without even realizing it!! How fucked up would that be?! Wouldn't that look good in the history books – Mitch Morgan, killer of the human race, because he DIDN'T FUCKIN' THINK IT THROUGH!!” he yelled, letting out a laugh that sounded just shy of hysteria, which coming from the usually calm, steady Mitch Morgan, was scarier than anything else he could have said. Jamie had finally come close enough to dart forward and throw her arms about him, holding on when he staggered and would have pushed her away, his arms eventually surrounding her to hold on tight, his face buried in her hair while everyone around them looked shocked and, in some cases, thoughtful.   
Eventually one of the scientists spoke. “He's absolutely right. We never considered the impact it would have on a human, only on the hybrids. We need to get back to the lab and reconsider what we've done and find a better way. We know the current formula is sufficient to kill the hybrids, but now we need to find a way that won't decimate the human population as well.”  
“Shit!” Jackson swore.

When the convoy resumed, they had done a u-turn and were heading back south along the one-oh-one, Golden Gate bridge in sight up ahead.   
After Mitch's revelations about the near blunder sunk in, everyone went back to their vehicles to give the couple, still holding on to each other in the middle of the road, some semblance of privacy.   
Abe remained outside his car just in case any traffic came along and he needed to get Mitch and Jamie out of the way, otherwise he just kept watch over them.   
Mitch was convulsively clutching her to him, muttering apologies against the side of her head.   
“I'm so sorry, I nearly killed you...”  
“But you didn't...I'm still here. You saved me, remember?”  
“I could have killed you if I'd got any of that stuff on your skin...”  
“But you didn't. I'm fine and holding on to you.”  
“I'm so stupid, I didn't once think....”  
“But you did think before it went too far, you did think, Mitch. You'll find another way...”  
“God, I could have killed hundreds, thousands of people...”  
“But you didn't, you stopped in time. Mitch? We need to get back, start over again and find a different way.”  
Ever so slowly they pulled apart, not letting go but allowing some space between them. Mitch's face was a picture of tortured anguish, his eyes examining her features intently. He brought his hands up to frame her face, his lips twisted as he tried to rein in his emotions.   
“I'm sorry.”  
“You haven't done anything wrong, really. I'm alive because you took a leap of faith, and now you'll find another way, I know you will.” She brought her fingers up to trace over his face, smoothing her thumbs over his lips, smiling up at him. “I have complete faith in you, Mitch. I do.”  
Mitch managed a watery smile back at her, before looking up at where they were. “We need to get back and start work again.”  
“We do. Ready?” She lowered her hand and found his, lacing their fingers together. Mitch nodded and they walked back to their vehicle, Jamie walking around to the driver's side and climbing aboard.   
Jackson lead the convoy around and they headed back towards home, their mission accomplished in some areas, needing a rework in others. No one doubted the competency of the scientists, Mitch included, to find a solution to the problems raised, it would just take more time.

Given they were supposed to be away for a week or more, it was with some surprise the vehicles were waved through the gate and welcomed back. During the drive back, Mitch had used the time to get his head back in the game and formulate a way forward. When they pulled up outside the main hanger, he got out and climbed up onto the roof, everyone gathering around to hear what had brought them home early.   
Mitch gave them a brief rundown of events, then highlighted the flaw in their current thinking and how they would need to do further work to find a solution to the human component part of the problem. He spoke clearly and kept it simple so everyone could understand what had to be done. No one argued against him or opposed his rationale, the scientists simply nodding as if coming to the same realization that had so poleaxed him out in the field. In the past, too often, potential problem-solving solutions had been rushed to the fore without due consideration only to be pulled when the full picture of devastating results finally came in. The use of DDT in the fifties and sixties was the first to come to mind, the effects of that error of judgment still felt around the world in the subsequent generations even now. Agent Orange was another, the lingering effects on the people in Vietnam, and the US military, as well as the dioxin still in the soil, all examples of a good idea gone wrong. Just the mention of those errors, made by scientist in the past not taking into the account the effect on the human element, had Mitch and his team looking at every aspect of their 'solution' to find a way to test how toxic it would be to people, plus the long-term effects if it got into the water.

Before Mitch could throw himself back into the intensity of what was needed, she insisted he take a short break and spend time with her and Clem, suggesting that all the research team do the same so that they were fresh and able to look at the problem fully rested. Her suggested was met with barely concealed relief, supported by those that had stayed behind, as they too understood the enormity of what the team would have to accomplish to recreate success once more from the bare bones of everything they'd done to date.   
After unloading all the gear and supplies from the different vehicles, everyone dispersed to their families and residences to take stock and touch base with what had been going on in their absence.   
Clem threw herself into her father's arms, having a long hug, relieved to have him and Jamie home safe and keen to hear about their adventures. That afternoon a huge bonfire was lit, partly to get rid of a surfeit of rubbish that had been building up, but also to make an event of the convoy's return and the people with it. Tables and chairs were set up outside to view the conflagration and everyone took time off to hear what had happened beyond the bridge. The news that the hybrids were so close came as no surprise to most, the hard core of people now left to carry on the task of finding a way to beat them back heartened by the early success against the Razorbacks. Instead of feeling knocked back, the general feeling was that the first foray had been a resounding success. They were on the right path, they just had to refine it so that the human element was taken into account as well.   
Sitting all together, Mitch, Jamie, Clem and their friends, Jackson, Abe, Chloe and Dariela talked about the problem, Abe once more offering himself as guinea pig for a serum test on a healthy individual, and Jamie wouldn't take no for an answer when she put herself forward for sampling to see how the current toxin would react with an infected human. In fact, all of the group put their hands up to volunteer to be injected with hybrid DNA to allow for testing and study of the effect of the potential cure-all on human subjects before the next round of testing in the field, probably this time with a spray.   
Buoyed by the faith his family and friends had in his ability to find the magic bullet, Mitch did his best to put aside his fears and approach the dilemma with a fresh perspective. They had a cure and they had a delivery, they just had to make sure that the impact on people, with the help of the test subjects, was as positive as the faith they all had in him.   
The few days Mitch and Jamie took as a break were spent making love, reconnecting with Clem, doing things together, meals together, silly card games and just talking together, wondering about the future and where they'd go when the hybrid problem was solved. It was never if, always when. 

All too soon the focus was back on Mitch and his team.

There were two groups formed, one to test the toxin against human samples and the other to trial the squid serum in various dosages on the volunteers.  
Abe's response to the first dose of serum was mild. Being fit and healthy, it was assumed there was nothing about him that needed 'curing' as such, but the days that followed showed a trickle-down effect that was astounding. Joint pain disappeared, his senses – hearing, smell, taste, developed an acuity that was measurable, his blood showed improvements in organ function and every scar he had ever incurred almost disappeared overnight. Abe had been asked to list as many 'faults' that he knew about, with his body and performance, and in each case that niggle was addressed. His overall improvements were remarkable, his body reverse-aging at least ten to fifteen years, further in some areas of general health and wellbeing. In his own words, he felt more alive than he had in years. It also meant he was now at risk from the hybrid-targeted toxin.  
Progress on that front went on apace, both clean and hybridised members of the community volunteering to supply tissue and blood samples for testing, the original toxin formula proving, as Mitch suspected, to be as lethal to flesh and fluids with hybrid DNA incorporated as it was to the hybrids themselves, in whatever quantity they tried. Even a trace of the toxin on a surface was sufficient to cause a reaction in human samples from people infected with hybrid DNA. This only left one way to target the hybrids using the current batch of poison, and that was individually or in a way similar to the use of the seals. That version raised a question of how long did it take for the toxin to break down and become inert? The two dead seals and their flesh and bone marrows would be laying on that beach for some time until decay and predation inevitably consumed them, but until then, what effect would it have on those smaller crustacean, flies and seabirds. Would they carry the toxin in them, and if consumed and entering the food chain, how long would they remain toxic to an infected human, say if they caught a fish that had consumed a crab that had fed on the carcass? When they truly started to extrapolate the many ways and means that their hybrid toxin could enter the human food chain, it blew everybody's mind to the point they almost wanted to abandon the whole endeavor as too fraught with potential harm to be useful.   
In the days and weeks after the ill-fated trip to the headland, more people had decided to leave and try their luck back east, beyond the barrier. News had trickled into the community about its progress, some from travelers passing through either north or southwards, and through sporadic radio broadcasts that extolled anyone still living on the west coast to start migrating east to avoid being trapped behind the barrier once it closed. With fewer people, there was less pressure on food and waste management, but there were also fewer people to do the grunt work and maintain what they already had. Small looting parties started to be organized to scour the areas around where they were for anything left behind, each group accompanied by a couple of soldiers as reports about hybrids starting to appear in the city areas becoming more frequent. Power generation had never been a problem, but now more lights were found and installed on the perimeter fences to help those left to patrol it, giving them better visibility and advance warning. 

Outside contact with the military hierarchy overseeing the whole project came less and less often, the most senior soldier left in charge keeping his concerns to himself until the day came and he couldn't raise his senior officer or anyone at the main garrison. After considering his options he approached Mitch.   
“We have a situation,” Captain Harrison announced after closing the door to Mitch's office.  
Mitch regarded the younger man steadily. “Are you pulling out?”  
Harrison pulled over a chair and sat down heavily. “I don't know. I have no current orders to do so, but I also cannot contact my commanding officer or anyone at the base.”  
“How long?” Mitch asked.  
“I've been trying for the past three days, but no one is answering whatever time I try. I want to take a few men and go directly to base and see what the problem is. It might be a simple communication snafu, or something else.”  
“How many men are still on base here?”  
“Twenty-five, including me. Some are off base with the search teams, the rest are patrolling the perimeter and gates.”  
“Any problems with the men under your command?” Mitch asked. Harrison sent him a hard look.  
“No malcontents, if that's what you're asking. They were all volunteers, no family or connections to worry about, and they all know this is an easy posting, considering...”  
Mitch waved his hand. “You don't need my permission, Captain. Do what you need to do.”  
Harrison leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I'll only take two with me, that won't compromise what the rest are doing, too much. We should be gone only a couple of days, tops, just to sort out what's happening and then get back here.”  
Mitch stood up, extending his hand for the Captain to take. “Good luck. I sincerely hope it is just as you said, a communication mix up.”   
Harrison stood and shook his hand. “We'll be back before you notice we're gone.”

The Captain and his two men took one of the modified trucks and left the next day. There was no fanfare, and few people remarked upon their leaving. Mitch was more concerned that they were making little progress in finding an alternative or modified version of their hybrid kryptonite that didn't still cause fatal consequences for anyone or anything infected with hybrid DNA. The choices starting to appear from their research were becoming more and more limited. One suggestion, spoken in jest at the time, was to start breeding goats with the idea of taking them to area's where Razorbacks were known to live and inject them with the toxin then leave them to be hunted and eaten by the hybrids.   
It seemed to be a simplistic solution, but with their current failure to modify the original formulation to not target hybrid DNA in humans, forming hunting parties to identify and seed toxic prey to the predator hybrids was looking more and more like the final solution. It didn't address the issue of the herbivores, but it could be argued that as the Razorbacks seemed to run with the Rhinobison, then using poison on one, and attrition through shooting on the other could see substantial numbers taken out of the environment without any threat to humans or indigenous animals. Addressing the issue of the vultures, desert reptiles and aquatic hybrids, and now the invisible snakes, needed a different approach to managing their numbers, potential use of a virus vector specific to each species, similar to the use, in the nineteen-fifties, of Myxomatosis to control rabbit populations around the world, would be more effective with little likelihood of it affecting people or other animals. The downside to using a virus was the ability of the target animal species to become immune to the original virus, as was found with the rabbits, so after the first cull, a new virus was needed to maintain its use as a control solution. 

Despite numerous meetings, brainstorming and discussions, the stumbling block was the simple fact they didn't have the resources to mass produce even the most basic toxin, or the manpower to create the hunting parties needed, without more of everything than what they had to work with. Just keeping the small population within the compound fed, watered and accommodated was stretching their supplies thin. At the end of the last meeting, Mitch sent his team to go spend time with their friends and families, progress having come to a grinding halt.   
He sat for a moment in his office, contemplating the success and failures of his tenure as lead scientist on the project. A knock at his door pulled him out of his funk, the appearance of Captain Harrison both a relief and a worry.   
“You're back earlier than I expected.”  
The young army Captain sat down in the chair opposite and stretched his legs out. “We had our answer when we got to the front gate of the base. It was wide open. The whole place has been abandoned.”  
Mitch leaned forward. “Abandoned?”  
Harrison passed a hand over his face. “There's evidence they didn't leave voluntarily.”  
“Hybrid?”  
“The fences were trampled, signs that explosives were used, possibly to beat them back, but yeah. We didn't stop long when it was obvious there was no one there. We just hightailed ourselves back here.”  
Mitch stared down at his desktop for a moment. “So, Captain? What do we do now?”  
“Without orders, or reference to my superiors, my standing orders remain. To give you and the rest of your team whatever aid you need.”  
“Even if it means we need to bug out and find somewhere less likely to be overrun by hybrids?” Mitch asked.  
“Yeah. I was thinking something like that, too. We don't have enough men to patrol the perimeter effectively, and if the base, which is more heavily defended than here, could be overrun, then our chances are slim to none on surviving a similar attack here.”  
“So where do we run to?” Mitch asked.  
“Were you aware that we are currently about an hour north of Stanford University?”  
Mitch blinked back at the younger man, his brain slow to pick up on the implications. “Stanford?”  
“Yeah. Didn't go there myself, but a friend of mine did. Supposed to be one of the top ten universities in the whole states, according to him. Now we're no longer, technically, the command of my garrison, and I'm temporarily in command until further orders say otherwise, do you think a decamp to Stanford might improve our situation?”  
Mitch slowly smiled. “Well, fuck me, thank God, someone is thinking straight. Stanford would be perfect, supposing we can get in there, that is isn't already occupied, that it hasn't been too badly looted for their equipment...”  
“It will also give us a new area to scrounge. Around here it's pretty much tapped out.”  
Mitch got to his feet, excitement palpable. “When can we get packed and move?”  
“The sooner the better, I'm thinking. We need a more defensible base.”  
Mitch was already thinking ahead. “We need more transports, bigger vehicles to carry the hybrid cages and some of the stuff we have here, in case it's not available there, for whatever reason.”  
“You don't want to wait and see if the rest of the people here agree to this plan?” Harrison asked.   
“You think anyone is wanting to stay here?” Mitch retorted. “Time to move, Captain, and you've provided the best possible choice. Every vehicle will need to be towing a trailer or something to transport the animals. Can I leave the logistics in your hands?”  
“Sure. I'll get my guys on it right away.”  
“Good. I'll see about getting our labs packed up and loaded, as well as get the civilians started on packing up. We'll need every inch of space for both everyone and their gear, so be prepared for some creative packing and the use of roof-racks on everything.”  
“Deadline?”  
“No longer than two days from now. The teams out scavenging will be back by then, if not before.”  
“Two days it is.” Harrison stood up and saluted, Mitch returning his gesture with a loose one of his own. “Time to get cracking, Captain, we have a lot to do!”


	12. Building From The Wreckage

Six months on from that fateful decision and they could finally say they were making real progress again. That said, it wasn't progress to do with anything related to the toxin, that was still at a stalemate, it was more to do with turning the renowned and revered Stanford University into a self-sustaining safe haven for the people living in the southern San Francisco area around it. 

When it was realized that they had several acres of grounds to play with, just within the limits of the surrounding Campus Drive, the task of securing a defensible boundary was the first priority. The convoy that left their last haven, had taken a side trip to the military base, to strip anything from it that had been left, primarily ammunition and any other supplies left behind in the military's haste to leave. Having become adept and resourceful scavengers, they found plenty to take with them. They would also make a return trip, later that month, for other heavy equipment they could use at their new base of operations.  
It was decided early on in the formation of the new Stanford community, that no one wanted to live in continual fear of the hybrids, so sufficient provision would have to be made to create a truly safe haven for people to live in and cultivate. Because they had to allow for, not only the ground-based hybrids but also the flying creatures, elaborate ways to prevent an aerial assault were drawn up, to be implemented as and when resources and manpower allowed. The area around the university had been only lightly scavenged by the small local population who remained, so a sufficient food supply in the short term wasn't an issue. Manpower came when Mitch and Jamie returned to the community at Westview and put a proposal to them, after telling them what they were doing further south, at Stanford. They left the people there with an open invitation, and in the weeks that followed people started to drift south, until everyone from that area, including their friends from the caravan park, arrived to make a fresh start in the spacious university grounds. Work on their own barrier picked up apace as word got out to other isolated communities, that Stanford was becoming a hub of not only safety but also somewhere providing medical help, agriculture, a secure food source as well as other norms of society that some hadn't seen operating in three years or more.  
A lot of the grounds was given over to growing food, while other green spaces were lightly fenced and used for grazing for domestic herds of goats and sheep. Other animals were soon introduced; ducks, geese, chickens, and rabbits. As the human population swelled, the boundary fence was erected at a faster and faster pace with the help of heavy machinery and whatever materials were found to create it. Chain link was of no use to keep out the hybrids and only used for internal fencing on the grounds. Sheet metal and concrete were the materials of choice and in some places, a reinforced palisade of logs would fill a gap. Timber was sourced from the surrounding areas, not from within the grounds themselves. A nearby golf course produced a wealth of trunks from mature plantings, providing an almost endless source of bracing props to support the high wall. Everyone was invested in building the perimeter, those that were going to attempt to reach The Barrier to the east, before it was completed, had left months ago, those that were left were now committed to creating somewhere they could live in safety, until the resident boffins came up with a usable solution against the hybrid threat.  
Given free rein to appropriate anything that could be used, the local area was scoured and stripped of anything usable for the growing community, furniture was brought in to turn classrooms and offices into living spaces and apartments. The children were taught how to garden and farm, as well as manage the livestock and take part in the picking and collecting of foodstuffs, to free up their parents and every able adult to work on the perimeter fence.  
No single person governed or made decisions for the whole, they instead employed a form of open government, where ideas were brought to weekly meetings where anyone could attend, propose or argue what was before them. It wasn't perfect, but it seemed to work. Law and order was maintained along similar lines, the military soldiers were now military police, more as a deterrent, but also there to train up members of the community for perimeter patrols and night security. There was a forum for anyone with a grievance, they could table a problem with another person or situation and expect an impartial hearing and get a decision in quick order. The easiest law was the one where anyone not happy with the way things were run, were invited to take themselves off and live outside the perimeter fence, and take their chances with the hybrids. When it was shown that only serious complaints would be addressed, with petty grumbles and supposed injuries to pride or feelings largely laughed out of court, the community counsel only had to meet once a week to address issues that arose. Members of the council were regularly changed so that no one person could be bribed to look favorably on a complainant, the review board rotated through the available adults. It wasn't foolproof but it worked, with issues resolved quickly.  
Scouts sent into the area north of Westview during those frenetically busy months reported sightings of the Razorbacks and Rhinobison in large quantities, the herds grazing all the former parks and open areas south of the Golden Gate bridge, while the Razorbacks hunted through the city for anything left behind that they could eat. If anyone still doubted the sense of what they were doing, the reports from beyond their wall quickly convinced them otherwise. On the day they finally closed the last length of the barricade, a hybrid vulture flew over the university, cawing loudly as if to say - “found you!” to the human occupants below.  
When more birds arrived to take part in the supposedly easy picking of the grazing livestock and humans below, they found their attempts to reach the ground thwarted by nearly invisible steel cabling, threaded between the buildings, that acted like wire cheese-cutters, tearing the wings of any bird foolish enough to try. In this way the domestic herds were protected from the air first, then, once the barricade was no longer a priority, assault from the air was quickly pulled to the head of the security queue as the next threat to be resolved, and work rapidly accomplished to protect each open area with a cobweb of cabling that proved very effective against aerial assaults from anything larger than a hawk.  
With people, came their pets. Dogs owners were encouraged to enroll their dogs into training camps to aid in the night patrols around the perimeter and alert the men on watch, to any approach by hybrids. Cats earned their keep by hunting rodents in the empty buildings, several used as resident mousers to protect the tender crops in the greenhouses from rodent predation, while the ducks were useful in keeping the insects off the vegetables, happily spending a morning plucking caterpillars and snails off leaves, supplementing their diets. The livestock, in their turn, provided continuous supplies of compostable fertilizer, the chicken poop used as an activator for breaking down green waste quickly and providing a supply of compost to top dress and nourish established fruit trees and vines. Everything, where possible, was recycled, composted or repurposed. When the mains electricity eventually failed completely, they reverted to solar, wind and water generation to supply sufficient power, the various quads around the buildings all sporting wind turbines of different, but equally efficient designs. Water was initially sourced from Lake Lagunita, but soon they were able to drill for water after finding the geo map for the grounds, creating wells in different locations to provide irrigation, while bringing in storage tanks to capture rainwater for domestic use. Plumbing was altered to separate grey water from sewage, sending the grey water from sinks, showers and laundry to storage tanks to aid irrigation, while solid waste was diverted from using the existing sewer system by encouraging the populace to use newly built compostable toilets set up throughout the grounds to take the pressure off the main system and provide another source of fertiliser. It was all a great deal of hard work in the first few months, but by judicious planning and use of the adult workforce, it was accomplished quickly, to the mutual benefit of everyone. 

As the community at Stanford approached their first year on the university grounds, the population had grown over the previous months to nearly a thousand people, occupying buildings that usually housed over seven thousand students plus faculty. There was space enough for everyone. Some of the buildings had been given over to the sciences, the veterinary team setting up shop in one similarly purposed building, while next door the hybrid team, when they were no longer needed to work as laborers, finally got to return to their primary objective – a solution to the hybrid problem. The hybrids they'd brought with them, the Razorbacks, Rhinobison, Vultures, Lizard, Squid, and Eels, were now all housed securely in the same block along with the scientists studying them. 

On a warm, sunny spring day Mitch Morgan wandered barefoot across the close-cropped grass left by the sheep, his long hair pulled back off his bearded face with a clip holding it on top of his head, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. His thoughts were consumed by how different life had been only a year ago, a time when desperation featured large and frustration was a daily anxiety. Now, although not without a few niggles, life was in a far better state for them all, and a new miracle was a central focus of his present musings. Ahead, sitting on colorful rugs and comfortable cushions spread out over the grass, under the canopy of one of the many trees, was a group of people that he now considered family as much as his lovely, first daughter.  
Clementine was growing into a young woman, now a teenager of fourteen and quite the authority on hydroponics. She had brought what seed stock she could from the old place, and quickly appropriated one of the greenhouses, converting it for hydroponic propagation. The early results were being tasted as part of the picnic laid out on the blankets.  
Abe and Dariela were there, Abe cradling his son, Isaac in his arms, the child not quite six months old, but not the first to be born in the new place they simply called Stanford. Jackson and Chloe were the proud parents of an eight-month-old baby girl called Ambra, meaning jewel in French, Jackson proving to be a doting father, his daughter currently hanging on to his fingers so he could lift her up to stand, albeit it very wobbly, on his thighs, the child chortling at him while he did so. Leaning back against a stack of pillows, Jamie reclined with her eyes shut, her hands resting on the swell of her abdomen, slightly puffy feet crossed at the ankles. Lifting his sunglasses to rest atop his head Mitch put his finger to his lips, to stop the others calling out at his approach, padding silently, or so he thought, up to where Jamie lay before sitting cross-legged down beside her.  
Jamie instantly opened her eye and turned her head to look at him. “You know, it's time you took some of that serum yourself. Your knees are so noisy.”  
Everyone laughed, even Mitch. He leaned over and placed a kiss on the bump hidden under the floaty cotton dress she wore. “Never could fool you, sweetheart. How's junior today?”  
“Kicking up a storm. Anything new come out of the meeting?” she asked.  
“Just a couple of weak spots in the barricade that need strengthening, and a strange report from your fisherman friend, Jackson.”  
The man addressed looked over, handing his daughter off to Chloe to take over amusing her. “Is Bernie still alive? Damn that man is tough.”  
“Apparently. he gave up fishing in the harbor when it became too choked up with the eels. He moved to fishing off the coast, settling in a tiny beachside community of fishermen at Martin's Beach. He heard about all this and decided to bring a truckload of fish with him and investigate. He's on his way over here when he'd done at the kitchens.”  
“What was his strange report?” Abe asked.  
“He says the eels are dying. Apparently he, and some others took a trip up to the Bay and found the beaches awash with dead hybrid eels. He bagged some samples and brought them with him. Something new for the guys to pick apart.”  
“Any idea what killed them?” Jackson asked.  
Mitch shrugged. “We'll find out in due course. Bernie said they weren't as far south as where he is, on the coast on the other side of Redwood Park, near Lobitos, so the fishing is good there.”  
“How are they managing to survive against the hybrids?” Dariela asked.  
“Same as here. Built a sturdy palisade and if it gets too bad they retreat to the boats, out of reach until they get the all clear,” Mitch explained. “He'll tell you all about it when he gets here.”  
Jamie had been fidgeting against the pillows, trying to get comfortable. Mitch turned to look at her.  
“Something wrong?” he asked quietly, so not to draw the attention of the others. Jamie let out a huff of breath.  
“Dammit, I need to pee again,” she muttered. “If he would only stop jumping up and down on my bladder...”  
Mitch raised an eyebrow. “He? It was a girl, yesterday.”  
“Girl, boy, it had better come soon. Help me up.” She reached out her hands and Mitch got up to take them, hoisting her effortlessly to her feet, holding her for a moment to steady her.  
“We'll be back,” Mitch informed the group, putting an arm around Jamie as they started their slow progress across the grass to one of the buildings, to use the facilities.  
Jamie was quietly grumbling to herself, then she stopped and bent over slightly.  
“You okay?”  
“Nope. I think I ate my lunch too fast, I have a stitch in my side, hurts like blazes.”  
She straightened up and moved forward a few steps, stopping again, pressing her hand to her side as pain spiked through her. “Dammit, that hurt. Mitch?”  
He held a hand against her belly and felt the skin tighten. “Yeah, that was a construction. You're in labor, love. Come on, we'll take it slowly and make our way to the bathroom as planned.”  
“I'm not giving birth to our child in a toilet!” she protested, groaning loudly but still walking forward.  
“Well, you don't really want to give birth outside, do you?”  
“I'm thinking about it...” Jamie shot back. “It's not the worse place, sheep do it all the time.”  
“Very bucolic. Just a few steps more and we'll be there.” They were already at the edge of the grass, stepping onto the sun-warmed concrete path that would take them to the nearest building. Jamie was softly grunting with each wave of pain squeezing her belly.  
“It's too fast...” she moaned at one point, Mitch silently agreeing with her, but not wanting to alarm her.  
“Not far now...” He held the door open for her to go inside, the toilet door only just down the corridor. Inside they took the first cubicle and Mitch carefully lowered her onto the seat. Jamie gave a relieved sigh as she started to empty her bladder, but then looked up at Mitch.  
“This isn't all pee, I think my waters just broke!”  
Mitch stared at her for a moment, then looked around the room for anything useful. Apart from an empty paper towel dispenser, there was nothing to see but cubicles and sinks.  
“Dammit. Okay, let's get you up and check there's nothing wrong down below...” He eased Jamie up off the loo and checked there was no blood in the water, then flushed it away. “We're all fine. We just need to get you to the birthing unit as soon as possible.”  
“Easy for you to say...” she broke off, panting and bending over as her stomach tightened.  
“I didn't notice what building we're in, I don't suppose...” he paused. Jamie looked up.  
“I was a bit preoccupied.”  
“Yeah. Sure. Let's get outside again and see if we can flag someone down.”  
Slowly, Jamie walking with her dress balled up between her legs, they made their way back outside. In the distance, they could see their friends still sitting on the grass under the tree, but no amount of waving or shouting seemed to draw their attention. Mitch decided against leaving Jamie to go get help, preferring to stay with her in case matters came to a head. He may not have delivered many babies in his time as a doctor, but he knew what to do in a pinch. Meanwhile, they made their slow progress down the path towards the main concourse in the hopes of flagging someone down in a buggy to give them a lift. Jamie was almost permanently bent double, groaning with each contraction, Mitch encouraging her between keeping her walking. At last, they reached the central roadway and saw one of the electric buggies heading their way. The young man at the wheel hurriedly pulled over when Mitch flagged him down. 

Two hours later Mitch was holding his second daughter in his arms, baby Jacinda nestled happily in his arms, tired out from a brief yell at being launched indecently fast into the world, her mother lying exhausted against the banked pillows, her eyes closed. While the midwife waited for the afterbirth to be delivered, Mitch crooned to his child, marveling at the miracle that resulted in her coming into being.  
He recalled the day Jamie had told him her suspicions, of the pregnancy test and the positive result, of their tearful celebration together before telling everyone else. Further examinations revealed that the damage done to Jamie, when she was younger, had been repaired fully by the squid cure, giving her back the ability to have children. She had been so happy when her friends had both fallen pregnant themselves, only mourning a little in private for her own inability due to past circumstances, but then the impossible had occurred and now she had a child of her own, a precious creation of her and Mitch, something undreamed of by either of them.  
Jamie opened her eyes, watching Mitch and their daughter bonding, her lips lifting in a smile at seeing him handle the tiny bundle like a pro. Mitch noticed her half-opened eyes and lowered himself beside the bed to hold out Jacinda for her new Mom to see.  
“You kinda zoned out for the last bit,” Mitch told her. “Here she is, all fingers and toes numbered and accounted for, wanna hold her?”  
Jamie held out her arms and accepted the warm bundle against her chest. Staring down at the child that shouldn't exist, she felt her eyes well and tears slide down her cheek, the baby choosing that moment to open its eyes again and stare short-sightedly up at its mother, mouth opening, and closing while tiny hands reached up towards the face above her.  
“She's just beautiful...I can't believe we made this.”  
Mitch, wiping away the moisture gathering in his own eyes, could only nod in agreement. 

The midwife was done at the other end of the bed, the placenta packed away for testing given Jamie's exposure to the hybrid serum. She had a few final pointers to pass on to the new mother, before leaving the parents to enjoy their newborn.  
Jamie had dozed off when a knock came at the door and their friends and family begged entry to admire the latest addition. Mitch waved them out, to let Jamie sleep, carrying his daughter in his arms to show her off to her honorary aunts and uncles, and of course her stepsister, Clem.  
“She's gorgeous,” Chloe gushed, her own daughter happily dozing on her shoulder. “What is her name?”  
“Jacinda. It just sounded pretty when we were going through potential names.”  
“I like it,” Clem approved. “Short and sweet, just like her.”  
“Wanna hold her?” Mitch asked Clem, the teenager holding her arms out to accept the baby.  
Mitch was hugged by everyone while his daughter got to know her new sister, rocking back and forth and whispering to her new sibling.

They had heard only that morning, through news broadcast over the radio waves, that The Barrier between east and west had finally been completed. Evacuations of those still trapped on the west coast were taking place, starting from the far north and working their way south, but it would take possibly another year or more before the Pacific Evacuation Force came close to the San Francisco area. Even then, the choice to leave or stay would be up to the community to decide.

Back home, in the reliable airstream, Jamie breastfed her baby, a look of supreme contentment on her face, her long hair hanging forward like a silky, red-gold curtain as she bent forward over her child.  
“Hey, beautiful,” Mitch said softly, coming to sit on the side of the bed and watch mother and babe. Jamie looked up and beamed, the baby ignoring them both and continuing to feed.  
“Clem all settled in?” Jamie asked.  
“Happy as a clam. She's growing up so fast, it makes my head spin, but she loves having her own space, to come and go as she pleases. Are you sure you really don't want to have an apartment?”  
Jamie looked around the interior of the campervan, then looked at Mitch. “This is where my life changed, where our child was conceived, where we've made love so many times. It's ours, and now with Clem in her own 'room', so to speak, we can enjoy these precious early days with Jacinda in a place stuffed full of love.”  
Mitch looked around the small room dominated by the bed, the sunlight making stripes through the blinds. “It has certainly seen us through some dark times and protected us when needed. I'm happy to stay here, but you may want to rethink it when Jacinda is mobile and wants out.”  
Jamie grinned at him. “Can't see that being a problem. We'll have a creche set up by then, probably a kindergarten as well.”  
“You making plans already?”  
“Of course. There are the most wonderful libraries here, over twenty of them, just waiting to be invaded by children to start exploring all the books, let alone the wealth of knowledge on the shelves. And if they don't have a children's section, we'll just have to raid a local library to find what we want.”  
“The playground is coming along well, last time I looked.”  
“Exactly, we have everything we could ever want here for the next generation.”  
Mitch watched as Jamie gently disengaged her daughter from one breast, carefully brought up any wind, then applied her to the other. A tiny tuft of dark fuzz was starting to grow over the crown of his child's head, hinting that this one, at least, wouldn't probably lean more towards his coloring, than her mothers. He didn't realize that, as closely as he was watching the baby, Jamie was watching him.  
“You want another one...” she stated softly. “I can see it in your face.”  
Mitch ducked his head and smiled crookedly. “Well, I already have a blond, now a brunette. A redhead would complete the trifecta.”  
Jamie laughed. “It would probably turn out to be a boy!”  
Mitch looked up, joining in her laughter. “So, that's a yes?”  
Jamie gave him a look. “That's a maybe.” The baby was done with her feed, Jamie holding her out for her father to take, while she did up the buttons on her blouse. Mitch got up to walk the baby around the room, one hand under her bottom to support her.  
Jamie got off the bed and went to sit at the small table, Mitch following, Jacinda giving out a loud burp and a little spit, content with her full tummy, little arms waggling around. A woven basket sat on the table, ready to receive its usual occupant, Mitch laying her inside, the fond parents gazing down at their child, watching as the tiny hands and feet moved to a rhythm only babies know.  
“Will your guys ever come up with a way to control the hybrids?” Jamie asked.  
“Control, yes. Eliminate entirely? Probably not. Whoever seeded these creatures into our ecosystem had a reason and purpose behind it, but I have no idea what that could be. With every day that passes, hybrid DNA is leaked into the environment, meaning that any action taken against them must take into account the human element. I think the creation of the barrier, forcing the containment of the creatures to just the west coast, will save the rest of the continent, but unless there is a way found to stop them breeding, they will overrun all the land west of the barrier within five years.”  
“What about the eels? What killed them?”  
“Parasites. Nearly every animal carries a certain amount of parasites in their gut and bodies, ranging from fleas and ticks to liver flukes and tapeworms. For some reason the eels were particularly susceptible to the flukes and worms, possibly something overlooked when they were created. Either way, their immune systems couldn't handle the invaders and died of starvation.”  
Jamie made a face. “Ewww. Thank goodness they weren't edible.”  
“Yeah. I second that. All our domestic animals are regularly dosed for worms, fleas, and ticks, so hopefully, that won't be a problem, and the medical team is doing the same among the residents as well.”  
“Gross...”  
“But necessary. Let's change the subject...”  
“Please.” A glance into the basket showed that Jacinda was now fast asleep, lulled into slumber by a full tummy and her parent's low voices.  
“Back to what you asked before, the hybrid team are looking to approach the problem from a different angle. They're looking towards ways to stop the hybrids reproducing, which wouldn't be fatal but would prevent a population explosion. I've read the science and it looks possible, but there's going to be a bit of work to achieve a usable result.”  
“In the meantime...?”  
“In the meantime we live, we love and watch our daughters grow up in the safest place we can make for them. It's not what I ever imagined, but I think it's a way forward, for us.”  
“We did good, Doctor Morgan, doncha think?” Jamie reached across the table and laced her fingers with his.  
“We did, and it's only going to get better.” With a glance at his sleeping baby, Mitch got to his feet and pulled Jamie up with him. “Why don't we go and make the most of the quiet and put in some practice for the next one?” He waggled his eyebrows behind his glasses and Jamie had to stifle a laugh, the pair of them quietly leaving the main room for the bedroom. As they went they shed clothing until they were both naked, meeting briefly to embrace with arms and lips, before falling onto the familiar, worn covers to make love.

 

End of Down Amongst The Wreckage.


End file.
